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The Demon Trapjer of Dmliaiog. 

A THRILLING TALE 

OF THE MAINE FOEESTS. 


BY 


D. P. THOMPSON, Esq. 

u 


; ' lui : ,/ 




PHTLADELPHIA 

COLUMBIAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
35 North Tenth Street. 

1890 


Copyright 


By COLUMBIAN PUBLISHING CO. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 1. 

Page 

Town and Country contrasted, in relation to Vice and Crime. — A 
Display Party to avoid Bankruptcy. — Gaut Gurley, and other 
leading Characters, introduced as Actors in this scene of City 
Life 1 


CHAPTER II. 

Retrospect of the life of the Country Merchant, in making Money, 
to become a “Solid Man of Boston.” — Humble Beginnings. — 
Tempted into Smuggling from Canada in Embargo times, and 
makes a Fortune, by the aid of the desperate and daring Services 
of Gaul Gurley. — A Sketch of the Wild Scenes of Smuggling 
over the British line into Vermont and New Hampshire. — Remo- 
val to the City 15 


CHAPTER III. 

Gambling (an allegory) invented by the Fiends, and is proclaimed 
the Premium Vice by Lucifer. — A Gambling Scene between Gaut 
Gurley and the merchant, Mark Elwood. — The Failure of the 
latter. — The Refusal of his brother, Arthur Elwood, to help him. 

— The Surprise and Distress of his Family 21 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Downward Path of the Habitual Gambler. — His Family shar- 
ing in the Degradation, and becoming the suffering Victims of his 
Vices. — The Sudden Resolve to be a Man again, and remove to an 
unsettled Country, to begin Life anew in the Woods 38 


(iii) 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER V. 

Pag* 

The moral and intellectual Influences of Forest Life. — Scenery of 
Umbagog. — Description of Elwood’snew Home in the Woods. — 

The Burning of his first Slash. — His House catches Fire, and he 
and his Wife engage in extinguishing it, praying for the return of 
their Sou, Claud Elwood, to help them in their terrible strait 51 

CHAPTER VI. 

Claud Elwood and his Forest Musings. — Dangerous Assault, and 
slaying of a Moose. — Rescue of Gaut’s Daughter from the enraged 
animal. — Strange Developments. — Incipient Love Scene. — 
Trout-catching. — Return of Claud and Phillips (the Old Hunter 
here first introduced), to aid in saving the Elwood Cottage from 
the fire. — The Thunder-shower comes to complete the conquest of 
the fire. — The destruction of the King Pine by a Thunderbolt. ... 60 

CHAPTER VII. 

Journey up the Magalloway, to bring home the slaughtered Moose. 

— Love and its entanglements ; its Sunshine now, its Storms in the 
distance 76 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Jaunt of Claud and Phillips over the Rapids to the next Great Lake, 
for Deer-hunting and Trout-catching. — Rescue of Fluella, the In- 
dian Chiefs Daughter, from Drowning in the Rapids. — Her 
remarkable Character for Intellect and Beauty 87 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Logging Bee. — The introduction of a New Character in Com- 


ical Codman, the Trapper. — The Woodmen’s Banquet. — The 
forming of the Trapping and Hunting Company, to start on an 
Expedition to the Upper Lakes 108 


CHAPTER X. 

Developments of the dark and designing character of Gaut Gurley. 

— Tomah, the college-learned Indian 124 


CONTENTS. V 

CHAPTER XI. 

Page 

Mrs. Elwood’s Bodings, on account of the connection of her Hus- 
band and Son with Gaut and his Daughter. — Her Interview with 
Fluella. — Claud’s Interview with Fluella and her Father, the 
Chief. — The Chiefs History of his Tribe 137 

CHAPTER XII. 

Adventures of the Trappers the first day of their Expedition up the 
Lakes. — Bear-hunt, Trout-catching, etc. — Introduction of Carvil, 
on amateur Hunter from the Green Mountains 154 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Trappers’ Central Camp on the Maguntic Lake. — Three 
Stories of most remarkable Adventures in the Woods, told at the 
Camp-fire by three Hunters and Trappers 175 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Voyage to Oquossah, the farthest large Lake. — The stationing 
of the Trappers at difiPerent points on the Lake. — The appointment 
of Gaut as Keeper of the Central Camp, on the Lake below. — The 
Results of their Fall's Operations, and Preparatiqps to return 
Home 200 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Trappers overtaken by a terrible Snow-storm . — Their Suffer- 
ing before reaching Central Camp. — The discovery that this Camp 
had been Burnt, and Robbed of their whole Stock of Furs. — Their 
Providential Escape from Death 211 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Legal Prosecution to Recover their Furs, or punish Gaut, the 
supposed Criminal. — The unsatisfactory Result, and Gaut’s dark 
menaces of Revenge 235 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Gaut’s Efforts to get the old Company off into the Forest, on a 
Spring Expedition. — All refuse but Elwood and Son, who con- 
clude to go. — Love Entanglements, and the boding Fears of 
Mrs. Elwood 246 


vi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XVIli. 

Pag« 

Opening of Spring in the Settlement. — The Trappers fail to Re- 
turn. — Gant comes without them. — The Alarm and Suspicions 
of the Settlers that he has Murdered the Elwoods. — The Circum- 
stantial Evidence 260 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The attempt to Arrest Gaut. — His retreat to a Cave in the Moun- 
tain. — His final Dislodgement and Capture, for Trial and Exami- 
nation 275 


CHAPTER XX. 

Retrospect of the Adventures of Gaut and the Elwoods. — The 
Murder of Mark Elwood, and the Wounding of Claud, by Gaut. — 
Claud’s life saved by Fluella 299 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Gant’s Trial, Sentence, and Imprisonment. — General Denouement 
of the Story. — Gaut breaks Jail, escapes, and becomes a desperate 


Pirate-leader 324 

SEQUEL. 

A.wful Fate of a Pirate Ship. — Gkmt’s DcaUi 3M 


THE DEMOS TRAPPER OF DMBAGOG. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ God made the country and man made the towr. 

So wrote the charming Cowper, giving us to understand, by 
the drift of the context, that he intended the remark as having 
a moral as well as a physical application ; since, as he there 
intimates, in “ gain-devoted cities,” whither naturally flow “ the 
dregs and feculence of every land,” and where “ foul example 
in most minds begets its likeness,” the vices will ever find their 
favorite haunts ; while the virtues, on the contrary, will always 
most abound in the country. So far as regards the virtues, if 
we are to take them untested, this is doubtless true. And so 
far, also, as regards the mere vices, or actual transgressions of 
morality, we need, perhaps, to have no hesitation in yielding 
our assent to the position of the poet. But, if he intends to 
include in the category those flagrant crimes which stand first 
in the gradation of human offences, we must be permitted to 
dissent from that part of the view ; and not only dissent, but 
claim that truth will generally require the very reversal of the 
picture, for of such crimes we believe it will be found, on 
examination, that the country ever furnishes the greatest pro- 
portion. In cities, the frequent intercourse of men with their 

O) 


2 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


fellow-men, the constant interchange of the ordinary civilities 
of life, and the thousand amusements and calls on their atten- 
tion that are daily occurring, have almost necessarily a tendency 
to soften or turn away the edge of malice and hatred, to divert 
the mind from the dark workings of revenge, and prevent it 
from settling into any of those fatal purposes which result in 
the wilful destruction of life, or some other gross outrage on 
humanity. But in the country, where, it will be remembered, 
the first blood ever spilled by the hand of a murderer cried up 
to Heaven from the ground, and where the meliorating circum- 
stances we have named as incident to congregated life are al- 
most wholly wanting, man is left to brood in solitude over his 
real or fancied wrongs, till all the fierce and stormy passions 
of his nature become aroused, and hurry him unchecked along 
to the fatal outbreak. In the city, the strong and bad passions 
of hate, envy, jealousy, and revenge, softened in action, as we 
have said, on finding a readier vent in some of the conditions 
of urban society, generally prove comparatively harmless. In 
the country, finding no such softening influences, and no such 
vent, and left to their own workings, they often become danger- 
ously concentrated, and, growing more and more intensified as 
their self-fed fires are permitted to burn on, at length burst 
through every barrier of restraint, and set all law and reason 
alike at defiance. 

And if this view, as we believe, is correct in regard to the 
operation of this class of passions, why not in regard to the 
operation of those of an opposite character? Why should not 
the same principle apply to the operation of love as well as 
hate ? It should, and does, though not in an equal degree, per- 
haps, apply to them both. It has been shown to be so in the 
experience of the past. It is illustrated in many a sad drama 
of real life, but never more strikingly than in the true and 
darkly romantic incidents which form the groundwork of the 
tale upon which we are about to enter. 

It was on a raw and gusty evening in the month of Novem- 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. ^ 

her, a few years subsequent to our last war with Great Britain, 
and the cold and vapor-laden winds, which form such a draw- 
back to the coast-clime of New England, were fitfully wailing 
over the drear and frost-blackened landscape, and the way- 
farers, as if keenly alive to the discomforts of all without, were 
seen everywhere hurrying forward to reach those comforts 
within which were heralded in the cheerful gleams that shot 
from many a window, when a showy and conspicuous mansion, 
in the environs of Boston, was observed to be lighted up to an 
extent, and with a brilliancy, that betokened the advent of some 
ambitious display on the part of the bustling inmates. Car- 
riages from different parts of the city were successively arriv- 
ing, discharging their loads of gaily -dressed ladies and gentle- 
men at the door, and rattling off again at the crack of the whips 
of the pert and jauntily equipped drivers. Others on foot, 
and from the more immediate neighborhood, were, in couples and 
singly, for some time constantly dropping in to swell the crowd, 
witness, and perhaps add to, the attractions of the occasion, which 
was obviously one of those social gatherings that have been 
sometimes, in conventional phrase, not inaptly denominated a 
jam ; where people go to be in the fashion, to see, be seen, 
and try as hard as they can to be happy ; but where the aggre- 
gate of happiness enjoyed is probably far less, as a general 
rule, than would be enjoyed by the same company at home in 
the pursuit of their ordinary avocations. 

Meanwhile, as the guests were assembling and being con- 
ducted to the withdrawing rooms, through the cash-bought and 
obsequious politeness of some of the troop of waiters hired for 
the occasion, the master of the mansion had taken his station 
in the nook of a window commanding the common entrance, 
and was there stealthily noting, as the company, severally or 
one group after another, mounted the doorsteps, who had hon- 
ored his cards of invitation whom he wished to see there, and 
who had come whom he wished to have stayed away. He was 
a well-favored man, somewhat past the middle age of life, with 


4 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


regular features, and a good general appearance, but with one 
of those unsettled, fluctuating countenances which are usually 
found in men who, while affecting, perhaps, a show of indepen- 
dence, lack self-reliance, fixed principles, or some other of the 
essential elements of character. And such indeed was Mark 
Elwood, the reputedly wealthy merchant whom we have thus 
introduced as one of the leading personages of our story. 
Though often moved with kind and generous impulses, he yet 
was governed by no settled principles of benevolence ; though 
often shrewd and sagacious, he yet possessed no true wisdom ; 
and, though often bold and resolute in action, he yet lacked the 
faith and firmness of true courage. In short, he might be re- 
garded as a fair representative of the numerous class we are 
daily meeting with in life, — men who do many good things, 
but more questionable ones ; who undertake much, accomplish 
little ; bustle, agitate, and thus contrive to occupy the largest 
space in public attention ; but who, when sifted, are found, as 
Pope maliciously says of women, to 

“ have no character at all.” 

After pursuing his observations a while, with an air of dis- 
appointment or indifference, Elwood was about to turn away, 
when his eye caught a glimpse of an approaching group of 
guests, whose appearance at once lighted up his countenance 
with a smile of satisfaction, and he half-ejaculated: “There 
they come ! — the solid men of Boston. The presence of these, 
with the others who will all serve as trumpeters of the affair, 
will quell every suspicion of my credit till some new strike 
shall place me beyond danger. Yes, just as I calculated, the 
money spent will be the cunningest investment I have made 
these six months. But who is that tagging along alone after 
the rest ? ” he added, his countenance suddenly changing to a 
troubled look, and slowly, and with a strange emphasis, pro- 
nouncing the name, “ Gaut Gurley ! ” he hirried away from 
his post of observation. 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 6 

The person whose obviously unexpected appearance among 
the arriving guests had so much disturbed our host, having 
leisurely brought up the rear, now paused a few paces from 
the door, and took a deliberate survey of all that was visible 
through the windows of the scene passing within. He was a 
man of a personal appearance not likely to be forgotten. His 
strong, upright, well-proportioned frame, full, rounded head, 
and unexceptionable features, were unusually well calculated to 
arrest the attention, and, at a little distance especially, to secure 
the favorable impressions of others; but those impressions 
faded away, or gave place to opposite emotions, on a nearer 
approach, for then the beholder read something in the counte- 
nance that met his, which made him pause, — something which 
he could not fathom, but which at once disinclined him to any 
acquaintance with the man to whom that countenance be- 
longed. 

Perhaps it should be viewed as one of the kindest provi- 
sions of Providence, made in aid of our rights and instincts of 
self-preservation, that man should not be able wholly to hide 
the secrets of his heart from his fellow-men, — that the human 
countenance should be so formed that no schooling, however se- 
vere, can prevent it from betraying the evil thoughts and purposes 
which may be lurking within. It is said that God alone can read 
the secrets of the heart ; but we have often thought that He has 
imparted to us more of this attribute of His omniscience than 
that which is vouchsafed us in any one of our other faculties ; 
or, in other words, that, to the skill we may acquire by practice 
in reading the countenance. He has added something of the light 
of intuition, to enable us to pierce into the otherwise impen- 
etrable recesses of the bosom, and thus guard ourselves against 
the designs which may there be disclosed, and which, but for 
that, the deceptions of the tongue might forever conceal. All 
this, we are aware, may pass as a mere supposition ; yet we 
think its correctness will be very generally attested by oflScera 




GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


of justice, p#licemen, jailers, and all those who have had much 
experience in the detection of crime. 

But, whether the doctrine is applicable or not in the general- 
ity of cases, it was certainly so in that of the unbidden guest 
whose appearance we have attempted to describe. Unlike 
Elwood, he had character, but all those who closely noted him 
were made to feel that his character was a dark and dangerous 
one. 

After Gaut, for such he was called among his acquaintance, 
had leisurely run his eye from window to window of the many 
lighted apartments of the house, and scanned, as he did, with 
many a sneering smile, the appearances within, as long as 
suited his pleasure, he boldly walked in, and, with all the as- 
surance of the most favored, proceeded to mingle with the 
company. 

On quitting his lookout, Elwood repaired to the reception- 
room, where Mrs. Elwood, the mistress of the mansion, was 
already in waiting, nerving herself to perform, as acceptably 
as she could, her part of the stereotyped ceremony of receiving 
the guests, and exchanging with them the salutations and com- 
monplaces of the evening. Mrs. Elwood, though not beautiful, 
nor even handsome, was yet every way a comely woman ; and 
the quiet dignity and the unpretending simplicity of her man- 
ner, together with a certain intelligent and appreciating cast 
of countenance, which always rested on her placid features- 
seldom failed to impress those who approached her with feel 
ings of kindness and respect. She looked pale and fatigued, 
from the labors and anxieties she had gone through in the 
preparations for the present occasion ; and, in addition to this, 
which is ever the penalty to the mistress of the house in getting 
up a large party, there was an air of sadness in her looks that 
told of secret sorrows which were not much mitigated by all 
the show of wealth that surrounded her. 

By this time the company, having mostly arrived and di- 
vested themselves of hats, gloves, bonnets, shawls, together 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


7 


iTith all other of the loose etceteras of dress then in vogue, and 
carefully consulted the confidential mirrors to secure that ad- 
justment of collars, curls, smirks, and smiles which are deemed 
most favorable for efiect in public, were now shown into the 
suit of apartments where the host and hostess were waiting to 
receive them. 

But it is far from our purpose to attempt a detailed descrip- 
tion of the thousand little nothings which go to make up the 
character of one of these great fashionable parties. Wlio ever 
came from one the wiser ? Not one guest in ten, probably, is 
found engaged in a conversation in which the ordinary powers 
of the speaker are exercised. A forced glee and smartness 
seem everywhere to prevail among the company, who are 
continually sacrificing their common sense in their eager at- 
tempts to appear gay and witty. Who was ever made really 
happier by being in such an assemblage ? Although the par- 
ticipants may exhibit to casual observation the semblance of 
enjoyment, yet a close inspection will show that they are only 
acting^ and that, as we have already intimated, their apparent 
enjoyment is no more deserving the name of social happiness 
than that which is often represented as enjoyed by a company 
of stage actors, in the harassing performance of the fictitious 
scenes of some genteel ’comedy. Who was ever made any 
better ? Any rational discussion tending to exalt or purify the 
mind would be deemed out of place ; and any moral teachings 
would be ridiculed or find no listeners. And, finally, who was 
ever made healthier? In the bad air generated among so 
many breaths in confined apartments, the high nervous excite- 
ment that usually prevails among the company, and the ex- 
posure to cold or dampness to which their unprepared systems 
are often subjected in returning home. Death has marked many 
a victim for his own ; while, at the best, lassitude and depres- 
sion are sure to follow, from which it will require days to re- 
cover. 

In these strictures on overgrown parties, we would not, of 


8 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


coui*se, be understood as intending to include the smaller social 
gatherings, where men and women do not, as they are prone to 
do in crowds, lose their sense of personal responsibility, in de- 
porting themselves like rational beings ; for such doubtless 
often lead to pleasing and instructive interchange of thought, 
and the cultivation of those little amenities of life which are 
scarcely less essential than the virtues themselves in the struc- 
ture of good society. 

But it is time we had returned from this digression to the 
characters and incidents immediately connected with the action 
of our tale. 

A short time after the frosts of formality, which usually 
attend the introductory scenes of such assemblages, had melted 
away and given place to the noisy frivolities of the evening, 
and while the bustling host, and pale, anxious-looking hostess, 
were together taking their rounds among their three hundred 
guests, bestowing their attentions on the more neglected, call 
ing out the more modest, and exchanging civilities with all, 
— while this was passing, suddenly there arose from without a 
confused noise, as of quick movements and mingling voices, 
which, from its character and the direction whence it came, 
obviously indicated some altercation, or other disturbance, at the 
outer door. This attracting the quickened attention of Mr. and 
Mrs. Elwood, the former left his companion, and was threading 
his way through the throng, when he was met by a servant, 
who in a flurried under-tone said : 

“ There is out here at the door, Mr. Elwood, a sort of a 
countryfied, odd-looking old fellow, in rusty brown clothes, that 
has been insisting on coming in, without being invited here to- 
night, and without telling his business or even giving his name. 
And he pressed so hard that we had to drive him back off the 
steps ; but he refused to go away, even then, and kept asking 
where Mark was.” 

“ Mark ! why, that is my given name ; didn’t you know it ? ” 
said Elwood, rebukingly. 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


9 


“No, sir, I didn%” replied the fashionable jtro tempore 
lackey. “ And if I had, my orders has always been on sech 
occasions not to admit any but the invited, who won’t send in 
their names, or tell thefr business. And I generally calculate 
to go by Gunter, and do the thing up genteel.” 

“ Well, well,” said Elwood, impatiently cutting short the other 
in the defence of his professional character, and leading the way 
to the door, “ well, well, we had better see who he is, perhaps.” 

When they reached the front entrance, they caught, by means 
of the reflected light of the entry and chambers, an imperfect 
view of the object of their proposed scrutiny, walking up and 
down the bricked pathway leading to the house. But, not being 
able to identify the new-comer with any one of his acquaint- 
ances, at that distance, Elwood walked down and confronted 
him ; when, after a momentary pause, he siezed the supposed 
intruder by the hand, and, in a surprised and agitated tone, 
exclaimed : 

“ JNly brother Arthur ! How came you here ? ” 

“ By steam and stage.” 

“ Not what I meant : but no matter. We were not expecting 
you ; and I fear the waiters have made a sad mistake.” 

“ As bad an one as I did, perhaps, in declining to be catechized 
at my brother’s door.”- 

“ No, you were right enough ; but the waiters, being only 
here for the extra occasion, — the bit of flare-up you see we 
have here to-night, — and not knowing you, thought they must 
do as others do at such times. So overlook the blunder, if you 
will, and walk in.” 

Mark Elwood, much chagrined and discomposed at the dis- 
covery of such an untoward first reception of his brother, now 
ushered him into the brilliantly-lighted hall, where the two 
stood in such singular contrast that no stranger would have 
ever taken them for brothers, — Mark being, as we have before 
described him, a good-sized, and, in the main, a good-looking 
man j while the other, whom we have introduced as Arthur 


10 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

Elwood, was of a diminutive size, with commonplace features; 
and a severe, forbidding countenance, made so, perhaps, by 
intense application to business, together with the unfavorable 
effect caused by a blemished and sightless eye. 

“ Well, brother,” said Mark, after a hesitating and awkward 
pause, “ shall I look you up a private room, or will you go in 
among the company, — that is, if you consider yourself in trim 
to join them?” 

“ Your rooms must all be in use, and I should make less 
trouble to go in and be lost in the crowd. My trim will not 
kill anybody, probably,” was the dry reply to the indirect hint 
of tl\e other. 

In all this Mark’s better judgment coincided; but he had 
no moral courage, and, fearing the cut and color of his some- 
what outre-looking brother’s garmente might excite the remarks 
of his fashionable guests, he would have gladly disposed of 
him in some private manner till the company had departed. 
Finding him, however, totally insensible to all such consider- 
ations, he concluded to make the best of it, and accordingly at 
once led the way into the guest-crowded apartments. 

Here, contrary to his doubting brother’s expectation, Arthur 
Elwood, whose character appeared to be known to several of 
the wealthier guests, was soon treated with much respect, for, 
in addition to what a previous knowledge of him secured, Mrs. 
Elwood had promptly 3ome forward to greet him, and be cor- 
dially greeted in return, and, unlike her husband, had not hes- 
itated to bestow on him publicly the most marked attentions. 
As soon, however, as she had thus testified her sense of the 
superiority of worth over outward appearance, and thus, by 
her delicate tact, given him the consideration with the company 
which she thought belonged to the brother of her husband, she 
gracefully relinquished him to the latter ; when the two, by 
tacit mutual consent, sought a secluded corner, and seated them- 
selves for a private conversation. 

“ As I said, I did not expect you, Arthur,” commenced Mark 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


11 


Elwood, in the unsteady and hesitating tone of one about to 
broach a matter in which he felt a deep interest. “ I was not 
looking for you here at all, these days ; but presumed, when T 
wrote you, that, if you concluded to grant the favcr I asked, 
you would transact the business through the mail.” 

“ Loans of money are not always favors, Mark,” responded 
the other, thoughtfully ; “ and when I make them, I like to 
know whether they promise any real benefit. I could, as you 
say, have transacted the business through the mail, but I con- 
fess, Mark, I have lately had some misgivings and doubts 
whether your commercial fabric here in Boston was not too 
big and broad for the foundation ; and I thought I would come, 
see, and judge for myself.” 

“ But I only asked for the loan of a few thousands,” said 
Mark, meekly. “ The fact is, Arthur, that, owing to some bad 
luck and disappointments in money matters, I am, just now, a 
little embarrassed about meeting some of my engagements ; and 
I trust you will not refuse to give me a lift. What say you, 
Arthur ? ” 

“ I don’t say, but will see and decide,” replied the other. 

But, Mark,” he added, after a pause, “ Mark, what will this 
useless parade here to-night cost you ? ” 

“ O, a mere trifle, — a few hundreds, perhaps.” 

“ And you think hundreds well spent, when you are want- 
ing thousands to pay your debts, do you ? ” 

“ O, you know, Arthur, a man, to keep up his credit, must 
display a little once in a while.” 

“ No, I did not know that, Mark. I did not know that the 
throwing away of hundreds would help a man’s credit in thou- 
sands, especially with those whose opinion would be of any use 
to him. But go,” added the speaker, rising, “ go and see to 
your company : I can take care of myself.” 

The brothers, rising from an interview in which they had 
felt, perhaps, nearly an equal degree of secret embarrass- 
ment, — the one believing that his last hope hung on the 


12 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


result, and the other feeling conscious of entering on a most 
ungracious duty, — now separated, and mingled with the gay 
throng, who, swaying hither and thither, and, seemingly without 
end or aim, moving round and round their limited range of 
apartments, like the froth in the circling eddies of a whirlpool, 
continued to laugh, flirt, and chatter on, till the advent of the 
last act of the social farce, — the throwing open of a suit of 
hitherto sealed apartments, and the welcome disclosure of the 
varied and costly delicacies of the loaded refreshment tables, 
which the company, by their strong and simultaneous rush 
thitherward, the rattling of knives and forks, spoons and 
glasses, the rapid popping of champagne corks, and the low, 
eager hum of gratified voices that followed, evidently deemed 
the best, as well as the closing, act of the evening’s entertain- 
ment. 

While this scene was in progress, Gaut Gurley, who had 
been for some time in vain watching the opportunity, caught 
Mark Elwood unoccupied in one of the vacated apartments, 
and abruptly approached and confronted him. 

“ W ell, what now, Gaut ? ” exclaimed Elwood, with an as- 
sumed air of pettishness, after finding there was no further 
chance of escaping an interview which he had evidently been 
trying to avoid ; “ what would you have now ? ” 

“ I would just know whether you intend to keep your en- 
gagement,” replied Gurley, fixing his black, quivering eyes 
keenly on the other. 

What engagement ? ” 

“ To give me a chance to win back that money.” 

“ Which you demand when you have taken from me an hun- 
dred to one ! ” 

« And who nad a better right ? Through whose means did 
you make your fortune ? Besides this, haven’t I always given 
you a fair chance to win back all you could ? ” 

** I want no more of such chances.” 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 18 

^ But you promised ; and I want to know whetner you mean 
to keep that promise or not.” 

Supposing I do, you would not have me leave home to- 
night, would you ? ” 

“ Yes, to-night.” 

“ But my brother, as you have already discovered, I presume, 
has just arrived on a visit ; and you know I can’t decently 
leave him.” 

“ And what do 1 care for that ? Say whether you will meet 
me at the old room, or not, as soon as your company have 
cleared out ? ” 

“ You are unreasonable, cruel, Gaut.” 

“ Then say you will not go, and see what will come of it, 
Mark Elwood ! ” 

“ I must go — I will go, Gaut,” replied Elwood, turning pale 
at the last intimation. As soon as I get rid of the company^ 
I will start directly for the place.” 

“ Well, just as you can alford,” said Gaut, doggedly, as he 
turned on his heel, and made his way out of the house. 

Mark Elwood drew a long breath as he was thus relieved 
of the other’s presence, and was leaving the room, when Mrs. 
Elwood, who had felt much disturbed at discovering among her 
guests one of whose questionable character and connection with 
her husband she was already apprised, and who, from an ad- 
joining apartment, had caught a slight glimpse of the meeting 
just described, and enough of the conversation to enable her to 
guess at its import, hurriedly came forward, and, in a voice 
tremulous from suppressed emotion, said : 

“You surely are not going out to-night, Mr. Elwood?” 

“No — that is — only for a short time,” he said, hesitating, 
and a little confused at the discovery of his design, which a 
second thought told him she had made; “only fora short time. 
But don’t stop me to talk now ; you see the company are re- 
tiring. I must see the gentlemen off.” 

“ Mr. Elwood, I must be heard,” persisted the troubled and 


14 


GAUT GURLEY. 


anxious wife. “ I cannot bear to have you go off, and leave 
your only brother, whom you have not seen for years, and for 
such company ! O ‘Mr. Elwood, how can you let that bad 
man ” 

“ Hush ! don’t get into such a stew. I shall soon be back,” 
interrupted the other. “ You can excuse my absence. There, 
I hear them inquiring for me. I must go,” he added, abruptly 
breaking away, and leaving his grieved companion to hide her 
emotions as she best could from the guests who were now seen 
approaching for their parting salutations. 

In a few minutes the company had dispersed for their respec- 
tive homes, and with them, also, had unnoticed slipped away 
their infatuated host. 


CHAPTER II. 


At first, he, busy, plodding, poor. 

Earned, saved, and daily swelled his store; 

But soon Ambition’s summits rose. 

And Avarice dug his mine of woes.*' 

Fob the better understanding of some of the allusions of 
the preceding chapter, and of others that may yet appear in 
different parts of our tale, as well, indeed, as for a better ap- 
preciation of the whole, we will here turn aside from the thread 
of the narrative just commenced, to take a brief retrospect of 
the leading events and circumstances with which the previous 
lives of the several personages we have introduced had been 
connected, and among which their characters had been shaped 
and their destinies determined. 

Some twenty two or three years previous to the juncture we 
have been describing, Arthur and Mark Elwood, by the fruits 
of their unremitting industry as laborers on a farm in summers, 
and as pedlars of what they could best buy and sell in winters, 
added to the few hundred dollars patrimony they each inherited, 
were enabled, in a few years, to realize the object of their early 
ambition, in the opening of a small retail store, in one of the 
little outskirt villages of northern New-Hampshire. 

Such, like that of hundreds of others among us who now 
count their wealth by half millions, was the slender beginning 
of these two brothers. And, although they were from the first, 
as we have seen them at the last, as different in their general 
characters as they were in their persons, they yet got on very 
well together ; for, however they might disagree respecting the 
modes and means of acquisition, they were always as one in 

( 15 ) 


16 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


regard to the great result each alike had in view, and that was 
to make money and be rich. And, by a sort of tacit under- 
standing, falling into the departments of business best suited to 
their different tastes and capacities, the quiet, cautious, calculat- 
ing, and systematic Arthur confined himself to the store, kept 
the books, contrived the ways and means^ and, in short, did the 
principal head-work of the establishment ; while Mark, being 
of a more stirring turn, and, from his brisk hon homme manner 
and less scrupulous disposition, better calculated for drumming 
up customers and securing bargains for the store, did most of 
the outdoor business, riding about the country, contracting for 
produce, securing barter deal, and making himself, in all things, 
the runner and trumpeter of the company. At night they 
usually met together to compare notes and report progress; 
and they were never happier than when they sat down in their 
small store-room, hemmed in and surrounded by casks of nails, 
quintals of codfish, farming tools, etc., on one side, and narrow 
shelves of cheap calicos, India cottons, and flaunting ribbons, on 
the other, and recounted to each other the business and bargains 
of the day. Thus the two, w'orking on, like the spring and 
balance-wheel of some piece of mechanism, in harmony together, 
soon placed themselves beyond all fears of failure, and seemed 
happy and contented with their situation and prospects. 

This situation of affairs, however, was not destined to be of 
very long continuance. Not long after finding themselves safely 
on the highway to independence, they very naturally began to 
think of selecting, from among the fair young customers of their 
store, the ones who might make them eligible companions for 
life. And, as the wayward love-fates would have it, they both 
secretly fixed their affections on one and the same girl, — the 
pretty and sensible Alice Gregg, who, though a plain farmer’s 
daughter, was, to the vexation and envy of her numerous rustic 
suitors, to be won by nothing short of one of the village mer- 
chants. Alice was not long in discovering her advantage, nor 
ja deciding to avail herself of it, so far as to confine her election 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


17 


to one of these, her two undeclared lovers. And, after balanc- 
ing a while in her mind the account between her judgment, 
which would have declared for the reserved but sterling Arthur, 
and her fancy, which clamored hard for the manly-looking and 
more social Mark, she finally yielded the reins to the latter, 
and took measures accordingly. After this, Arthur’s taste in 
selecting a piece of goods did not, as before, seem to be appre- 
ciated. Her handkerchief was never dropped where he had 
any chance to pick it up ; and she was never quite ready to go 
till Mai'k was nearest at hand to help her into her wagon or 
side-saddle. By this delicate system of female tactics, common 
with girls of more pretensions than Alice, she effectually re- 
pressed the advances of the one, and as effectually encouraged 
those of the other ; and the result, as she had anticipated, was 
a declaration from Mark, an acceptance on her part, and a 
speedy marriage between them. Arthur’s heart bled at the 
event ; but it bled inwardly ; and he had at least the consolation 
of believing that no one suspected the state of his feelings, 
except, perhaps, Alice, and he was not unwilling that she should 
know them. He therefore put the best face on the matter he 
could, — appeared wholly unconcerned, — attended the wedding, 
and with forced gayety openly wished the new married couple 
the happiness which he secretly wished was his own. The 
tender passion had been a new thing to the money-loving 
Arthur. By its elevating influences, he, who had looked for 
enjoyment only in wealth, had been enabled to raise his vision 
to a higher sphere of happiness. And thus to lose the bright 
glimpses, and be thrown back to earth again, was, in reality, 
however he might disguise the fact from others, a serious blow 
to his feelings, and one, indeed, which soon mainly led to a 
movement on his part that gave a new turn to his apparent 
destinies, and a no less one, probably, to those of his then 
almost envied brother Mark. For, finding it impossible to feel 
his former interest in business, in a place whose associations 
had become painful to him, he secretly resolved to leave it as 


18 


GAUT GURLEY; OB, 


soon as lie believed be could do so without leading to any sur- 
mises respecting the true cause of the change he contemplated. 
Accordingly, in a few months, he began to suggest his own un- 
fitness for making a profitable partner in country trade, and 
finally came out with a direct proposition to his brother to buy 
him out at a sum which he knew would be a temptingly low 
one. And the result was, that the proposition was accepted, 
" the partnership dissolved by mutual consent,” and the released 
Arthur, with his portion, soon on his way to one of the eastern 
seaports, to set up business, as he soon did, for himself alone. 

The withdrawal of Arthur Elwood deprived this little estab- 
lishment of its only really valuable guidance, and left it to the 
chance fortunes of greater gains or greater losses than would 
have been likely to occur under the cautious and hazard- 
excluding system of business which he had adopted for its con- 
trol. But, nothing for a year or two occurring to induce Mark 
Elwood to depart from the system under which the business 
had been conducted, and Arthur’s prudent maxims of trade, to 
which he had been accustomed to defer, remaining fresh in his 
mind, he naturally kept on in the old routine, which he was the 
more willing to follow, as by it he found himself clearly on the 
advance. He was blessed in his family ; for his wife, who had 
no undue aspirations for wealth or show, had not only proved 
an efficient helper by her economy and good counsels, but added 
still more to his gratification by bringing him a promising boy. 
Being the only trader of the village, or hamlet it might more 
properly be called, he was conscious of being the object of that 
peculiar kind of favor and respect which was then — more 
freely than at the present day, perhaps — accorded to the coun- 
try merchant by the masses among whom he resided. And, 
finding his still comparatively moderate expectations thus every 
day fully realized, he was satisfied with his condition in the 
present, and hopeful and happy in the prospects it presented in 
the future; for the demon of unlawful gain had not then 
tempted him into forbidden paths by the lure of sudden riches 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


19 


But that demon at length came in the shape of Gaut Gurley. 
F rom what part of the country this singular and questionable 
personage originally came, was unknown, even in the neighbor- 
ing village (which was within the borders of Maine) where he 
had recently located himself with a young wife and child. And, 
as he very rarely made any allusions to his own personal affairs? 
every thing relating to his origin, life, and employments, previous 
to his appearance in this region, was a matter of mere conjee 
ture, and many a dark surmise, also, we should add, respecting 
his true character. For the last few years, however, he was 
known to have followed, at the appropriate seasons of the year, 
the business of trapping, or trading for furs with the Indians, 
around the northern lakes. He had several times passed 
through the village on his returns from his northern tours, and 
called on the Elwoods, whose contrasted characters he seemed 
soon to understand. But he pressed no bargains upon them 
for his peltries ; for, disliking the close questionings and scru- 
tinizing glances of Arthur, and finding he could make no final 
trade with Mark without the assent of the former, he gave up 
all attempts of the kind, and did not call again during the con- 
tinuance of the partnership, nor till this time ; when, finding 
that Mark was in trade alone, he announced his intention of 
spending some time in the village, to see what arrangements 
could be made, as he at first held out to Elwood, for establish- 
ing this as his place for the regular sales or deposit of his furs. 

But the fur traffic, whatever it might have been formerly, 
was now not the main, if any part of the object he had in view. 
The times had changed, closing many of the old avenues of 
trade, but opening new ones to tempt the ever restless spirit of 
gain. And, although the fur trade was still profitable, there was 
yet another springing up, which, for those who, like him, had 
no scruples about engaging in it, promised to become far more 
so. The restrictions which it had been the policy of our gov- 
ernment to throw around commerce, in the incipient stages of 
our last national quarrel with Great Britain, had caused an un* 


20 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


precedented rise in the prices of silks and other fine fabrics of 
foreign import. This had put whatever there was of the two 
alleged leading traits of Yankee character, acquisitiveness and 
ingenuity, on the qui vive to obtain those goods at the former 
prices, for the purpose of home speculation. And Canada, 
being separated by a land boundary only from the States, pre- 
sented to the greedy eyes of hundreds of village mammonists, 
who, like Elwood, were plodding along at the slow jog of twenty 
per cent profits, opportunities of so purchasing as to quadruple 
their gains ; which were quite too severe a test for their slender 
stock of patriotism to withstand. It was but a natural con- 
sequence, therefore, that all of them whose love of gain was 
not overcome by their fear of loss by detection and the forfeiture 
of their goods, should soon be found, in spite of all the vigilance 
and activity of the host of custom-house officers by whom the 
government had manned the Canadian lines, secretly engaged 
in that contraband traffic. 

The history of smuggling as carried on between the Northern 
States and Canada, from the enactment of the embargo at the 
close of 1807, and especially from the enactment of the more 
stringent non-intercourse law of 1810, to the declaration of 
war in 1812, and even, to a greater or less extent, to the pro- 
clamation of peace in 1815, is a portion of our annals that yet 
remains almost wholly unwritten. Although the contraband 
trade in question was doubtless more or less followed along the 
entire extent of on.r northern boundaries, from east to west, 
yet along no portions of them half so extensively, probably, as 
those of Vermont and New Hampshire, which, from their close 
contiguity to Montrv.al and Quebec, the only importing cities 
of the Canadas, afforded the most tempting facilities and the 
best chances for success. Along these borders, indeed, it was 
for years one almost continuous scene of wild warfare between 
the custom-house officers and their assistants, and the smug- 
glers and their abettors, both parties carrying arms, and the 
smugglers, especially, going armed to the teeth. In these skir- 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


21 


mishes many were, at different times, killed outright ; many 
more were missing, even on the side of the officials, for whom 
dark fates were naturally conjectured ; while hundreds, on 
both sides, were crippled or otherwise seriously wounded. 
Sometimes, when a double sleigh, or wagon, deeply laden with 
smuggled goods, in charge of three or four stout and resolute 
fellows aboard, who, with as many more, perhaps, of their con- 
federates on horseback or in light teams, before and behind, 
were making their way, at full speed, with their prize, from 
the line to some secret and safe depository in the interior, was 
suddenly beset and brought to a stand by an equal or greater 
number of government officials, deeply intent on a seizure, a 
most furious conflict would ensue, in which the combatants, 
growing desperate for the seizure or defence of the prize, would 
ply their hard yeoman fists, clubs, loaded whipstocks, or what- 
ever was at hand, with terrible effect, and often prolong the 
melee till the snow or ground was encrimsoned with blood, and 
scarcely an uninjured man remained -on the ground. Sometimes 
the besetting officials were made prisoners, and marched off at 
the cocked pistol’s mouth into the deep woods, and, after being 
led forward and backward through the labyrinths of the forest 
till bewildered and lost, were suddenly left to find their way 
out as they best could, — a feat which there was no danger ot 
their accomplishing till long after both the smugglers and their 
goods were beyond the reach of pursuers. And sometimes the 
smugglers, when closely pressed and seeing no hope of rescue 
if taken, as their last resort, drew their dirks and pistols ; and 
wo to the official who then persisted in attempting a seizure. 

But the system of tactics more generally practiced by the 
smugglers was that of craft and concealment, carried out by 
some ingenious measure to prevent all suspicion of the times 
and places of their movements, by travelling in the night or in 
stormy weather, or in the most unfrequented routes, and, when 
pursued, by putting the pursuers on false scents, or by feints 
of running away with loads of empty boxes to mislead pursuit, 


22 


OAXTT GURLEY; OR, 


till the goods, which had been previously taken to some place 
of temporary concealment, could be removed from the vicinity 
of the search and sent on their destination. 

Such were the general features of the illicit traffic w'hich 
characterized the period of which we are treating, — a traffic 
which laid the foundations of many a village fortune, whose 
dashing heirs would not probably be very willing to acknow- 
ledge the true source from which the wealth and position they 
may now be enjoying was derived, — and finally a traffic which, 
in its attending homicides and desperate affrays, its hot pursu-its 
and marvellous escapes, its curious concealments and artful sub- 
terfuges, and, lastly, in the family and neighborhood feuds which 
it left behind, would furnish materials for a series of tales as 
wild and romantic, if not always as creditable to the actors, as 
any thing ever yet spread before the public. 

It was this questionable business which was then occupying 
the thoughts of Gaut Gurley, and in which it was his aim to 
involve Mark Elwood, whom he had pitched on for the purpose, 
as not only a man of sufficient means, with no scruples which 
could not be overcome, but a man whom he believed he could 
make dependent on him, when once enlisted, and to whom he 
could dictate terras for his own services. And it is no wonder 
that a man of his dark cunning, working on one of the obtuse 
moral sense, the love of money, and the thoughtlessness of con- 
sequences, of Elwood, should, as he did, soon completely succeed 
in his objects. For, after having kindled El wood’s political 
prejudices against the embargo law, which was held up to be 
such an outrage on the commercial rights of the North that it 
were almost a merit to violate it, Gaut proceeded to show how 
enormous were the profits to be made in this trade, and how 
safely the goods might be smuggled in, through the back roads 
and forest routes with which he was familiar,* by employing 
Frenchmen, as he could, at a cheap rate, to bring them in large 
panniers on the backs of their Canadian ponies, or by engaging 
Indians, who could be enlisted for even less wages, to bring 


28 


^ THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 

them iQ ' knapsacks through the woods. And so clearly did he 
demonstrate all this to the mind of El wood, that the latter, 
being unable any longer to resist the temptation of thus secur- 
ing the gains of a traffic, by the side of which the small profits 
of his store at home dwindled into contempt, soon resolved to 
engage in it. 

I'hx)m this time Gaut was in high favor with Elwood. The 
two, indeed, seemed to have suddenly become inseparable* 
They were always found together, and always engaged in some 
closely private conversation, the purport of which no others 
were permitted to know, or were enabled to conjecture, except 
from the new business movement which was observed soon to 
follow the forming of their mysterious connection. And that 
movement was that Elwood put his store in charge of a clerk, 
and, giving out that he was about to engage more extensively 
in the fur trade, which would require him to be often absent, 
went off with a strong and fleet double team, in a northerly 
direction, with Gaut for his only companion. 

With the advent of this new era in the life of Elwood, every 
thing became changed about his establishment. His bustling 
presence, with his bantering, off-hand, and communicative talk, 
no longer enlivened the store and neighborhood ; and people, 
who before seemed to know every thing about his business and 
plansj now knew nothing. For he was now most of the time 
absent in conducting his operations at the north, or in his 
stealthy journeyings thence to the cities, to receive and dispose 
of the valuable packages which he had put on their passage. 
He generally came and departed in the night, and, even during 
his brief stays at home, he kept himself secluded, seeming to 
wish to be seen as little as possible. All this, of course, led to 
considerable talk and various speculations; but he so well 
shrouded his movements from the public, and kept afloat sc 
many plausible stories to account for his change of business, 
that he prevented suspicions from taking any definite shape 


24 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


about home, or spreading abroad to any extent that endangered 
his operations, although those . operations were constantly con- 
tinued for years, and, from cautious and small beginnings, at 
length became more bold, extensive, and successful, perhaps, 
than any thing of the kind ever carried on in the interior of 
New England. But there was one whose suspicions of the true 
character of the business in which he was engaged, notwith- 
standing his denials and evasions, even to her, and whose fears 
and anxieties on account of the dangers she believed he was 
constantly incurring, not only from seizure of his property and 
the personal violence to which he was exposed in trying to 
defend it, but from his association of reckless confederates, 
especially Gaut Gurley, of whose dark character, as little as 
she had seen of him, she was already filled with an instinctive 
dread, — there was one whose suspicions, and consequent 
anxieties, he could never succeed in quieting ; and that was his 
discreet and faithful wife. She had, during the first year or 
two of his new career, often expostulated with him on the 
doubtful character of his business ; but he, by always making 
light of her fears, by telling her some truth and withholding 
more, and disclosing as great a part of his astonishing gains as 
he supposed would pass with her for honest acquisitions, gener- 
ally silenced, if he did not convince, her ; and she, finding him 
always light-hearted and satisfied with himself, when he came 
home, finally ceased her remonstrances, having concluded she 
would try to conquer her doubts and fears, or at least say no 
more on the subject. 

At length, however, after a prolonged absence on a tour, in 
which he had a large venture at stake, he came home in a 
greatly altered mood. His usual buoyancy of spirits was gone ; 
he appeared gloomy and abstracted ; and, although, in reply to 
the anxious inquiries of his wife, he represented himself to have 
been entire successful, — even to a greater extent than ever 
before, — yet it was quite obvious that something very untoward, 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


25 


to say the least, must have happened to him. He would not 
leave his house after dark, he placed loaded pistols within the 
reach of his hand when he went to bed, and he would often 
start up wildly from his sleep. His whole conduct, indeed, was 
such as to excite the deeper concern of his perplexed wife, for 
she feared it betokened his connection with something very 
WTong, — something that had brought him into deadly peril, — 
something, perhaps, done to others, which made her tremble to 
think of, but something, at all events, which made her more 
than ever dread to have him go back again to the scene of his 
operations. But of the last-named of her fears she was shortly 
relieved ; for, to her agreeable surprise, he soon assured her of 
his determination to break off entirely from the business he had 
been pursuing, and, as much to her gratification as to the 
evident vexation of Gaut Gurley, who had come on to look his 
employer up, he firmly persisted in carrying out his resolution. 
Nor was this all. He rapidly drew his business to a close, 
broke off his old associations, privately left the place, and, in a 
few weeks, sent for his family to join him in Boston, where ii; 
appeared he had been for some time secretly transferring his 
capital, and where he had now established himself in business, 
with all the means required, even there, of doing it to the best 
advantage. And for some years he did engage in business to 
advantage, the same strangely good luck attending him, and 
prospering wonderfully in all he undertook, till he gained the 
reputation of being among the wealthiest of the city. But the 
spoiler came in a second appearance of Gaut Gurley, who, 
having squandered in the country the bounteous sums of money 
which El wood had paid him for his services, now followed the 
latter to the city. And, with the coming of that personage, 
together with the foolish ambition that had, about that time, 
seized Elwood, to outshine some of his city competitors in dis- 
play and expensive living, commenced the wane of a fortune 
which, as large as it was, it had required but two short years 


26 


GAUT GtJRLET. 


to bring to the verge on which we represented its unhappy 
master as standing in the opening scene of our story. 

Having now related all we designed in this retrospect of 
events, we will return from the somewhat long but necessary 
digrt3ssion, and take up the thread of the narrative where we 
left it 


CHAPTER III, 


** 1 Strive in vain to set the evil forth. 

The words that should sufficiently accnrse 
And execrate the thing, hath need 
Come glowing from the lips of eldest hell. 

Among the saddest in the den of woe. 

Most sad ; among the damn’d, most deeply damn’d.” 

Once on a time, before the dark catalogue of vices was made 
complete by the wicked inventions of men, or the evil made to 
counterbalance the good in the world, the Arch Enemy of man- 
kind, deeply sensible of the vantage-ground occupied by the 
antagonistic Being, and anxiously casting about him for the 
means of securing an equilibrium of power, called around him 
a small company, consisting of those of his Infernal subjects 
whom he had previously noted for their excellence in subtility 
and devilish invention, and, after fully explaining his wants 
and wishes to his keenly appreciating auditory, made procla- 
mation among them, that the Demon who should invent a new 
vice, which, under the name and guise of Pastime, should be 
best calculated to seduce men from the paths of virtue, pervert 
their hearts, ruin them for earth and educate them for hell, 
should be awarded a crown of honor, with rank and prerogative 
second only to his own. He then, with many a gracious and 
encouraging word to incite in them a spirit of emulation, and 
nerve them for exertion in the important enterprise thus set be- 
fore them, dismissed them, to go forth among men, observe, 
study, and come again before him on a designated time, to report 
the results of their respective doings, and submit them to his 
decision. Eager to do the will of their lord and Lucifer, as 
well as to gain the tempting distinctions involved in his award, 


28 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


the commissioned fiend-group dispersed, and scattered them- 
selves over the earth, which was understood to be their field of 
operations. And, after noting, as long as they chose, all the 
different phases of human society, the secret inclinations of 
those composing it, their follies, weaknesses and points most 
vulnerable to temptation, they each returned to the dark domin- 
ions whence they came, to cogitate in retir-»ment, concoct and 
reduce to form those schemes for securing the great object in 
view, which their observations and discove<**ies on earth had 
suggested. 

At the time appointed for the hearing and decision, the 
demoniac competitors again assembled before their imperial ar- 
biter ; not this time in secret conclave, but in the presence of 
thousands of congregated fiends who, having been apprised of 
the new plan about to be presented for peopling the Common- 
wealth of Hell with recruits from earth, had come up in all 
directions from their dismal abodes, to hear those plans reported, 
and witness the awarding of the prize for the one judged most 
worthy of adoption. Lucifer then mounted his throne, com- 
manded silence, and ordered the competitors to advance and 
present, in succession, such plans as they would lay before him 
for his consideration and decision. They did so ; and one of 
them, a young and genteel-looking devil, to whom, from a sup- 
pose congeniality of tastes and feelings with the objects of his 
care, had been especially assigned the duty of supervising the 
fashionable walks of society, now stepped confidently forward 
and said : 

“ I firesent for your consideration, most honored Lucifer, I 
present Fashion as one of those social institutions of men which 
might the most easily become, with a little fostering at our 
hands, to us the most productive of vices, under a name least 
calculated to alarm. It already holds an almost omnipotent 
sway over the wealthier, or wliat they call the higher, classes 
of society, who hesitate at no sins that can be committed with 
its sanction ; and the disposition is every day growing stronger 


THE TRAPPERS OF tJMBAGOG. 29 

and stronger, among all classes, to fall in with its behests. En- 
courage its progi-ess, make its rule absolute with all, and the 
world’s boasted morality would trouble us, devils, no more. 
This would be the direct and natural result among the most 
wealthy, who would leave no vice unpracticed, no sin uncom- 
mitted, provided they could excuse themselves under plea that 
it was fashionable. With those of more limited means the 
effect would be still better ; for devotion to F ashion would 
beget extravagance — extravagance, poverty — poverty, des- 
peration — desperation, crime; so with. all classes, the result, 
for our purpose, would be equally favorable and much the same. 
The new vice I therefore propose is the one to be made out of, 
and go under the name of. Fashion.” 

“ There may be something in this conception,” said Lucifer, 
thoughtfully, after the speaker had closed ; “ but is it safe 
against all contingencies ? What if the world should take it 
into their heads to make it fashionable to be good ?” 

“ Not the least danger of that,” rejoined the other, promptly. 
“ That is a contingency about as likely to happen as tliat 
your Iiighness should turn Christian,” he added, with a sai’donic 
grin. 

“ You are right,” responded Lucifer; “and, as your scheme 
comes within the rule, on the score of originality, we will re- 
serve it for consideration.” 

“ My plan,” said the next demon who spoke, “ consists in In- 
citing man to the general use of intoxicating drinks, under the 
plea of taking a social glass ; for, let the use of these become 
general, and all men were devils ready made, and ” 

“ True, most true ! ” interrupted Lucifer ; “ but that is not 
new.” That is a vice I invented myself, as long ago as the time 
Noah was floating about in the ai'k, and the first man I caught 
with it was the old patriarch himself. Since then it- has been 
my most profitable agent in the earth, bringing more recruits 
to my kingdom than all the other vices put together. But our 


80 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


present movement was lo insure something new. Tlie plan, 
therefore, does not come within the rule, and must be set aside.” 

“ The new vice which I propose,” said the third demon who 
came forward, “ is involved in the general cultivation of music, 
which I contend would render men effeminate, indolent, volup- 
tuous, and finally vicious and corrupt, so that whole nations 
might eventually be kept out of heaven and secured for hell 
tlirough its deteriorating influences.” 

“ I am not a little dubious about trying to make a vice out of 
music, which would be all reliable for our purposes,” remai'ked 
Lucifer, with a negative shake of the head. “ I fear it might 
prove a sword which would cut both ways. It may, it is true, 
be doing a pretty fair business just now in some localities ; but 
metliinks I already see, in the dim vista of the eartli’s future, a 
cunning Wesley springing up, and exhorting his brethren ‘ Not 
to let the Devil have all the good tunes, but appropriate them 
to the service of the Lord.* Now if the religious world should 
hiive wit enough, as I greatly fear me they would, to follow the 
sagacious hint of such a leader, they might make music an 
agency which would enlist two followers for the white banner 
of Heaven where it would one for the red banner of Hell. The 
experiment would be one of too doubtful expediency to warrant 
the trial. The proposition, therefore, cannot be entertained.” 

Many other methods of creating an efficient new vice were 
then successively proposed by the different competitors ; but 
they were all, for some deficiency, or want of originality, 
in turn, rejected, till one more only remained to be announced ; 
when its author, an old, dark -eyed demon, who was much 
noted for his infernal cunning, and who, conscious perhaps of 
the superiority of his device, had contrived to defer its announce- 
ment till the last, now came forward, and said: 

“ The scheme I have devised for the accomplishment of the 
common object of the patriotic enterprise which your Highness 
has put afoot, proposes a new vice, which, passing under the 
guise of imioceut pastime, will not only, by itself', be fully equal 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 31 

to any other of the many vices now known among men, for its 
certainty to lure them to its embrace, fascinate, infatuate, de- 
prave, and destroy them, but will insure the exercise and com- 
bine the powers of them alL It addresses itself to the intellec- 
tual by the implied challenge it holds out to them to make a 
trial of their skill ; it appears to the unlbrtunate in bus ness 
as a welcome friend, which is rarely turned away ; it presents 
to pride and vanity the means of gratification that are not to be 
rejected ; it holds out to avarice an irresistible temptation ; it 
begets habits of drunkenness ; and thus insures all the fruits of 
that desolating vice ; it engenders envy, hatred, and the spirit 
of revenge ; in short, it brings into play every evil thought and 
passion that ever entered the head and heart of man, while it 
the most securely holds its victims, and most speedily hunts 
them down to ruin and death.” 

“ The name ? the name ? ” eagerly shouted an hundred 
voices from the excited fiend-throng around. 

“ The name,” resumed the speaker, in reply, “ the name by 
which I propose to christen this new and terrible device of mine, 
to counteract the pow'er of virtue, and curtail the dominions of 
Fleaven, is Gambling!” 

“ Gambling I Gambling ! ” responded all hell, in thunders of 
applause ; “ and Gambling let it be,” shouted Lucifer, as the 
priise was tlius awarded by acclamation to the distinguished in- 
ventor of Gambling. 

From this supposable scene among the demons, we pass, by 
no unnatural transition, to a kindred one among men. 

In a back, secluded room, in the third story of a public house 
in Boston, of questionable respectability, there might have been 
found, a few hours after the dispersion of the party before do- 
scril)ed, a small band of men sitting around a table, intently 
engaged in games of chance, in which money wms at stake; 
while on a sideboard stood several bottles of different kinds 
of liquors, with a liberal supply of crackers and cigars. Of this 
company, two, who have been already introduced to the reader, 


82 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 

— Mark Elwood and Gauf Gurley, — seemed to be especially 
pitted against each other in the game. It was now deep into 
the night, and Elwood said something about going home. But 
his remark being received only witli jeers by the company, he 
sank into an abashed silence and played on. Another hour 
elapsed, and he spoke of it again, but less decidedly. Another 
pasr^ed, and he seemed wholly to have forgotten his purpose ; 
for he, as well as all the rest of the company, liad, by this time, 
become intensely absorbed in the play, allowing themselves 
no respite or intermission, except to snatch occasionally a glass 
of liquor from the sideboard, in the entrancing business before 
them. And, as the sport proceeded, deeper and deeper grew 
the excitement among the infatuated participants, till every 
sense and feeling seemed lost to every thing save the result of 
each rapidly succeeding garpe ; and the heat of concentrated 
thought and pa-sion gleamed liercely from every eye, and found 
vent, in repeated exclamations of triumph or despair, from ev(iry 
tongue, according to the varying fortunes of the parties engaged. 
On one side was heard the loud and exultant shout of the 
winner at his success, and on the other, the low bitter curse of 
the loser at his disappointment ; the countenance of the one, 
in his joy and exultation, assuming the self-satisfied and domi- 
neering air of the victor and master, and the countenance of the 
other, in his grief and envy, darkening into the mingled look 
of the demon and the slave. 

And thus played on this desperate band of gamesters till 
morning light, which, now stealing through the shutters of their 
darkened room, came and joined its voiceless monitions with 
those which their consciences had long since given them, in 
waniing them to break up and return to their families, made 
wretclKH:! by their absence. So completely, however, had they 
abandoned themselves to the fatal witcheries of the play, that 
they heeded not even this significant admonition ; but, with un- 
easy glances towards the windows, to note the progress of the 
unwelcome intrusions of day,’ turned with the redoubled eager- 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


33 


Aess often shown by those who know their time is limited to 
their hellish engagement. 

Through the whole night, Fortune seemed to have held 
nearly an even scale between Elwood and his special adversary 
Gaut Gurley, contrary to the evident anticipations of the latter 
and despite all his attempts to secure an advantage. Tims far, 
however, he had signally failed in his purpose ; and, at the last 
game, Elwood had even won of him the largest sum that had as 
yet been put at stalvc between them. This seemed to drive him 
almost to madness ; and in his desperation he loudly demanded 
that the stakes should be doubled for the next trial. It was 
done. The game was played, and Gurley was again the losen 

“ I will now stay no longer,” said Elwood, rising. “ I was 
forced here to-night, as you well know, Gurley, against my will, 
and against all reason, to stop your clamor for a chance to win 
back what you absurdly called your money lost at our last sit- 
ting ; though Heaven knows that what I then won was but a piti- 
ful fraction of the amount you have talven from me, within the 
last two years, in the same or in a worse way. I have now 
given you your chance, — yes, chance upon chance, all night, — 
till your claim has been a dozen times cancelled ; and, I repeat^ 
I will stay no longer.” 

“ You shall ! ” fiercely cried Gurley, with an oath. You 
shall stay to give me another chance, or I will brand you as a 
trickster and a sneak ! ” 

“ Gentlemen,” said Elwood, turning to the company, in an 
expostulating tone, “ gentlemen, I appeal to you all if I have 
not ” 

“ I will have no appeal,” interrupted Gurley, in a voice 
trembling with rage. “I say I will have another chance, 
or ” 

“ Take it, then,” hastily interposed Elwood, as if unwilling 
to let the other finish the sentence ; “ take it : what will you 
have the stakes ? ” 

‘^Double the last.” 

8 


34 


GJLUT GUELEY; OB, 


“ Double ? 

“ Yes, double ! ” 

“ Have your own way, then,” said El wood, with forced com- 
posure, taking up and shuffling the cards for the important 
game. 

The stake was for a thousand ; and the trembling antagonists 
played as if life and death hung on the event. And the whole 
company, indeed, forgetful of their own comparatively slight 
interest, in the momentous one thus put at stake, at once turned 
their eyes on the two players, and watched the result with 
breathless interest. That result was soon disclosed ; when, to 
the surprise of all, and the dismay of Gaut Gurley, the victory 
once more strangely fell to the lot of Mark Elwood, who, gath- 
ering up the stakes with trembling eagerness, hastily rose from 
the table, as if to depart. 

“ What in the name of Tophet does all this mean ? ” fiercely 
exclaimed Gurley, throwing an angry and suspicious look 
round the table upon those who had doubtless been, at other 
sittings, his confederates in fleecing Elwood. “ Yes, what is 
the meaning of this ? I ask you^ and yow, sir ? ” 

“ Better ask your own partner,” said one of the men ad- 
dressed, with a defiant look. 

“ Elwood ? Pooh ! ” exclaimed Gaut, with a bitter sneer. 

“ And why not ? ” responded the former. “ He may have as 
good luck as the best of us, as it appears he has had. And 
hark ye, Gaut, you look things at us that it might not be safe 
for you to say in this room.” 

“ Gentlemen, you will all bear me out in leaving, now,” here 
interposed Elwood, beginning to make tow'ards the door. 

“ Stop, sir ! ” thundered Gaut. “ You are not a-going to 
sneak off with all that money in your pocket, by a d — d sight!** 

“ Why not, sir ? ” replied Elw^ood ; “ why not, for all you can 
say?” 

‘‘ Because I have lost, sir ! ” shouted Gurley, hoarse with rage. 
“ I have lost three games running, — lost all I have. I demand 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 35 

a fair chance to win it back ; and that chance I will have, or 
ril make you, Mark El wood, curse the hour you refused it.” 

“ Gaut Gurley, you insatiate fiend ! ” exclaimed Elwood, in 
a tone of mingled anger and distress ; “ you it was who first led 
me into this accursed habit of play, by which you have robbed 
me of untold thousands yourself, and been the means of my 
being robbed of thousands more by others. You have brought 
me to the door of ruin before, and would now take all 1 have 
to save me from absolute bankruptcy.” 

“ Whining hypocrite I ” cried Gurley, starting up in rage. 
“ Do you tell that story when you have my last dollar in your 
pocket? But your pitiful whining shall not avail you. If you 
leave this room alive, you leave that money behind you.” 

“ Stop, stop ! ” here interposed one of the company, who had 
noted what had inadvertently fallen from Elwood, in his warmth, 
respecting his apprehended bankruptcy ; “ stop, no such recrim- 
inations and threatenings here ! I can show Elwood a way to 
dispose of a part of his money, at least, without bringing on 
any one the charge of robbing or being robbed. Here is a 
note of your signing, Mr. Elwood, — a debt of honor, — for a 
couple of hundreds, contracted in this very room, you will re- 
member. You may as well pay it.” 

“ I have a similar bit of paper,” said another, coming for- 
ward and presenting a note for a still larger sum. 

“ And I, likewise,” said a third, joining the group, with an 
additional piece of evidence of Elwood’s folly, in the shape of a 
gambling note ; “ and I shall insist on payment with the rest, 
seeing the money cannot be disposed of between you and Gaut 
without a quarrel and danger of bloodshed.” 

With a perplexed and troubled air, Elwood paced the room 
a moment, without uttering a word in reply to the different de- 
mands that had so unexpectedly been made upon him. He 
glanced furtively towards the door, as if calculating the chances 
of escaping through it before any one could interpose to pre- 
vent him. He then glanced inquiringly at the company for 


38 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


Bucli indications of sympatlij or forbearance as might warrant 
the attempt ; but in their countenances he read only that which 
should deter him from resorting to any such means of escaping 
the dilemma in which he now found himself. And, suddenly 
stopping short and turning to the new claimants for his money, 
he said : 

“ Well, gentlemen, have your way, then. I had hoped to be 
permitted to caiTy away money enough to meet my bills and 
engagements of to-day, — at least, as much as. I brought here. 
But, as I am not to be allowed that privilege, hand on your 
paper, every scrap of my signing, and you shall have your 
pay.” 

A half-dozen notes of hand were instantly produced and 
thrown upon the table, and the holder of each was paid off in 
turn ; the last of whom drew from Elwood nearly every dollar 
he had in his possession. 

“ There, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, with a sort of desperate 
calmness, “ in this line of deal, at least, my accounts are all 
squared. I am quits with you all.” 

“ Not With me, by a d — d sight !” exclaimed Gurley, no 
longer able to restrain his rage at being thus baulked in his 
desperate purpose of getting hold of Elwood’s money, by fair 
means or foul, before permitting him to leave the room. “ Not 
with me, sir, till the amount of that last stake, which was just 
enough to make me whole, is again in my pocket ; and I’ll fol- 
low you to the gates of hell, but I’ll have it!” 

Cowering and trembling beneath the threats and fiendish 
glances of the other, Elwood siezed' his hat, and rushed fi-om 
the room. 

On escaping from this “den of thieves,” and gaining the 
street below, Elwood’s first thought was of home and his shame- 
fully neglected family, and he turned his steps in that direction. 
But, before proceeding far, he began to hesitate and falter in his 
course. He became oppressed with the feelings of a criminal. 
He was ashamed to meet his family ; for, fully conscious that 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


37 


his looks must be haggard, bis eyes red and bloodshot, and 
his whole appearance disordered, he knew his return in such a 
plight, at that hour in the morning, would betray the wretched 
employments of the night, especially to his keen-sighted brother, 
on wliose assistance he now doubly depended to save him from 
ruin. He therefore changed his course, and was proceeding 
towards his store, when he met his confidential clerk, who was 
out in search of him, and who, in great agitation, informed him 
that his drafts of yesterday had all been returned dishonored ; 
that bills were pouring in, and the holders clamorous for their 
pay. Struck dumb by the startling announcement, it was some 
moments before Elwood could collect his thoughts sufficiently 
to bid his clerk return, and put off his creditors till the next 
day, when he would try to satisfy them all. And, having done 
this, he turned suddenly into another street, wound his way 
back to the inn he had just left, took a private room, locked 
himself in, and for a while gave way to alternate paroxysms 
of grief, remorse, and self-reproaches. After exhausting him- 
self by the violence of his emotions, he threw himself upon a 
bed, and, thinking an hour’s repose might mend his appearance, 
so as to enable him the better to disguise the cause of his al> 
sence, on his return to his family, which he now concluded to 
defer till towards dinner-time, he fell into a slumber so pro- 
found and absorbing, that he did not awake till the shadows of 
approaching night had begun to darken his room. 

Leaping from his couch, in his surprise and vexation at hav- 
ing so overslept himself, he hastily made his toilet, and imme- 
ately set out for home, — a home which, for the first time in his 
life, he now dreaded to enter. To that wretched home we will 
now repair, preceding his arrival, to relate what had there oc- 
curred in his absence* 


CHAPTER IV. 


Better is a poor and wise child than an old and foolish father^ wh* 
will no more be admonished.’’ — Eccl. 

After the breaking up of the party, as described in the 
former chapter, Arthur Elwood, on joining the family circle, 
and not meeting his host and brother there, as he naturally 
expected, expressed his surprise at the circumstance, and in- 
quired the cause of his absence. But, perceiving that the sub- 
ject gave pain to Mrs. Elwood, who deemed it prudent but to 
repeat, as she hesitatingly did, what her husband had told her, 
that he had gone out, soon to be back, the former forbore any 
further inquiries or comments, and soon retired to rest, wishing 
her a good-night and pleasant slumbers. 

“ Good-night and pleasant slumbers ! ” slowly and murmur- 
ingly repeated the anxious and troubled wife, on whose ear the 
words, kindly meant as she knew them to be, fell as if in 
mockery to her feelings. “ Pleasant slumbers for me ! Heaven 

grant they may be made so by his speedy coming ; but ” 

and, being now alone, and thus relieved of the restraining pres- 
ence of others, she burst into tears, and wept long and bitterly. 

Woman was not created to act independently. The sphere 
in which she is formed to move, though different, is yet so im- 
mediately connected with that of man, that her destiny is 
inseparable from his. Her happiness and prosperity are not 
in her own keeping. The welfare of the husband is the welfare 
of the wife ; and, if poverty and disgrace, the concomitants of 
vi^e, fall on him, she must participate equally in the physical 
evil, and drink as much deeper of the cup of moral misery as 
her unblunted sensibilities are more lively, and her sense of 

/3S> 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


39 


right and wrong are more acute, than those of him who has 
become dead to the one and lost to the other. What wonder, 
then, that she should so agonize and weep in secret over his 
moral deviations, and all the more bitterly, because, with the 
most intense desire to do so, she has no power to remedy the 
evil ? But, for that sorrow and suffering, who before high 
Heaven will be held responsible ? Who, but the doubly-guilty 
husband whose conduct has caused them ? 

Through the whole of that, to her, long and dreary night, 
Mrs. Elwood never once thought of retiring to rest, but kept up 
her vigils in waiting #*jid watching for her husband : now listen- 
ing pensively to the wind that seemed to moan round her sol- 
itary apartment in unison with her own feelings ; now straining 
her senses to catch some sound of his approach ; and now, per- 
haps, throwing herself upon a sofa, and falling, for a moment, 
into a troubled slumber, but only to start up at the first sound 
of the rattling windows, to listen again, and again to be disap- 
pointed. In this manner she wore away the lingering hours 
of the night, till the long prayed-for daylight, which she sup- 
posed, at the farthest, would bring back her truant husband, 
made its welcome appearance. But daylight came not this time 
to remove the cause of her anxieties. Elwood had several 
times before staid out nearly through the night, but the ap- 
proach of daylight had always, till now, brought him home ; 
and, not making his appearance, as she confidently expected, 
she became, as the morning advanced, really alarmed for his 
personal safety, and would have immediately sent out for him, 
but she knew not whom to send. She therefore concluded to 
put off the already long-delayed breakfast no longer; and, sum- 
moning her brother-in-law, who, with herself (her son, whom 
we have yet more particularly to introduce to the reader, being 
temporarily absent from town), now constituted all the family 
remaining to join in the repast. The two then sat down to the 
table, and partook the meal mostly in gloomy silence, one stiU 
hoping all might yet turn out well, and therefore repressing her 


40 


GAUT ourlet; or, 


twofold apprehensions ; and tlie otlier, out of regard to her feel- 
ings, kindly forbearing to pain her with remarks and inquiries 
on a subject which they mutually felt conscious was oppressing 
the hearts of both. 

After the meal was over, Arthur Elwood arose, and, briefly 
announcing his intention of going out to look up his brother, 
who, he said, would be likely soon to be found at his store, left 
the house. At the usual dinner hour, Arthur Elwood returned 
to the house, and was met at the door by his anxious hostess, 
whose countenance quickly fell as she perceived him to be 
alone. 

“ Have you not yet seen my husband?” she eagerly de- 
manded. 

“ No, but have heard of him. He is somewhere in the city, 
I believe,” replied the other. 

“ In the city and not return ? ” persisted the surprised and 
distressed wife. “ How can this be? — what does it mean?” 

“ I do not know,” replied Arthur, with a thoughtful and per- 
plexed air. 

Mrs. F^lwood for a moment stood mute as a statue ; for, but 
too well conjecturing what was passing in the mind of the other, 
she durst not ask his opinion. But, soon regaining her usual 
composure, she led the way to the dinner-table, where the meal 
that followed was partaken much as the one that preceded it, 
— in silence and mutual constraint, which was only relieved by 
an occasional forced, commonplace remark. 

“ I shall again go to Mark’s store,” said Arthur, with stern 
gravity, as he rose from the table, after he had finished his 
repast, “ and I shall also take the liberty of looking into the 
condition of his affairs. After that, I may return here again, 
though to remain only for a short time, as 1 leave for home in 
the evening.” 

Towards night Arthur Elwood returned, and in his usual 
quiet way entered the room where Mrs. Elwood was sitting ; 
when, shaking his head as if in reply to the question respecting 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


41 


her still absent husband, which he saw, by the painfully inquir- 
ing expression of her countenance, was rising to her lips, he 
took a seat by her side, and, with an air of concern and a slight 
tremor of voice, commenced : 

“ 1 have been debating with myself, sister Alice, whether it 
were a greater kindness to go away without seeing you, and of 
course without apprising you of what I may have discovered 
respecting your husband and his affairs, or come here and tell 
you truths which would be painful, — too painful, perhaps, for 
you to bear.” 

“ ’Tis better I should know all,” rather gasped than uttered 
Mrs. Elwood. “ You will tell me the truth, — others may not. 
Go on.” 

Your husband,” resumed the other, “wrote me for the help 
of a few thousands, which I would have freely loaned, but for 
my suspicions that all was not right with him ; and, as I plainly 
told him, I came on to ascertain for myself whether such help 
would be thrown away, or really relieve him, as he represented, 
from a mere temporary embarrassment. I have now been into 
the painful investigation, and find matters, I grieve to say, ten- 
fold worse than I suspected. He is, and must have been for a 
long time, the companion and the victim of blacklegs and cut- 
throats, and ” 

“ I suspected, — I knew it,” interrupted the eager and trem- 
bling listener ; “ and O Arthur, how I have tried and wept and 
prayed to induce him to break off from them ; for I felt they 
would eventually ruin him.” 

“ Eventually ruin him ! Why, Alice, with his own miscalcu- 
lations in business, folly and extravagance in every thing, they 
have done so already.” 

“ But the main part of his property,” demanded the other, 
with a startled look, “ you don’t mean but what the main part 
of his property is still left ? ” 

“ Yes, 1 do, Alice, — but I see you are not prepared for this, 


GAUT GURLET, OR 


iS 

Still, you may as well know it now as ever. Yes, Alice, 
your husband is irretrievably bankrupt !” 

Mrs. Ehvood was not indeed prepared for this development. 
She had foreseen, it is true, the coming]; evil; but she sup- 
posed it was yet in the distance. She knew her husband’s 
property had been a large one ; and the announcement, from 
one she could not disbelieve, that it was all gone, struck her 
dumb iN'ith sui-prise and consternation. She uttered not a word. 
She could not speak, but sat pale and trembling, the very pic- 
ture of distress. 

After pacing the room a few moments, with frequent com- 
miserating glances at the face of the other, whose distress 
evidently deeply moved him, Arthur Elwood stopped short 
before her, and said : 

“ Sister Alice, my time is about up, — I must go.” 

“ Have you no word to leave for my husband when he 
comes ? ” asked Mrs. Elwood, with an effort to appear composed. 

“ No, — none whatever to him ; but with you, Alice,” he 
added, drawing out a small package of bank notes and dropping 
them into her lap, “ with you, and for you alone, against a day 
of necessity, I leave that trifle — no hesitation — keep it — put 
it out of sight — there, that is right. Now only one thing more, 
— what of your son ? ” 

“Claud?” 

“Yes. You know it has happened that I have never seen 
him.” 

“ I do know it, and have much regretted his absence ; for I 
wished you to see him. But I am now looking for him every 
hour, and if you could delay ’* 

“ No, no, I must go. Tell him to forget, at once, that he was 
ever a rich man’s only son and heir, and learn to profit by a 
rich man’s errors ; for, till he does this, which, if he is like 
others, will require some time, he will make no real advance in 
life,” 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOO. 43 

‘‘ Your impression may be natural, but it hardly does him 
justice. He is not like most others. Claud is a man now.” 

“ So much the better, then, for you and himself. But you see 
with a mother’s eyes, probably, and speak, with a mother’s heart 
I will inquire about him, however, as indeed I will about you 
all. Good-by.” 

Thus did the unimpassioned Arthur Elwood, with a seeming 
business-like roughness and want of feeling, assume to hide 
the emotions which he really felt in the discovery of his 
brother’s ruin, and in witnessing the distress he had just caused 
in communicating it, hurry through the painful interview, and 
abruptly depart, leaving Mrs. Elwood to struggle in secret with 
the chaos of thoughts and emotions which Arthur’s unexpected 
revelation had brought over her. She was not left long, how’^- 
ever, to struggle with her feelings alone. In a short time the 
sound of a familiar footstep hastily entering the front hall of 
the magnificent mansion, — alas! now no longer her own, — sud- 
denly caught her ear; when, with the exclamation, “ Claud, O 
Claud ! ” she rushed forward to her advancing son, and, to use 
the expressive language of Scripture, “ fell on his neck and 
wept.” 

“ I heard of father’s failure,” said the son, a fine looking 
youth of about twenty, with his mother’s cleanly cut features 
and firm, thoughtful countenance, joined to his father’s manly 
proportions. “ I learned, as I came into the city, an hour ago, 
that father had just failed, his store been shut up, and all his 
property put into the hands of his creditors ; and I hurried 
home to break the news to you. But I see you know it all.” 

“ Yes, that the blow was impending, but not that it had already 
fallen, as you now report ; but it may as well come to-day as 
to-morrow or next week. Half my nights, for months, Claud, 
have been made sleepless by the bodings and fears of the evil 
day, which, as things were going, I felt must eventually come ; 
but never, till Tvithin this very hour, did I dream that our mis- 
fortunes were so near. But, though the storm has burst so 


44 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 

much sooner than I expected, I could bravely face it, could we 
say that it was caused by no fault of our own ; but to be brought 
upon us in this manner, my son, it is hard, hard to bear.” 

“ But you have not been to blame, mother ; and I did not 
suppose you thought enough of wealth to grieve so at its loss.” 

“ I do not, Claud. It is not that ; still, 1 could not help 
thinking of your disappointment, even in that view of the mis- 
fortune.” 

“ Mine, mother ? Why, I am no worse off than father was 
when he started in life ; no worse off than thousands who 
begin with no other resources than what lie in clear heads and 
strong hearts. I can take care of myself ; and, what is more, I 
can take care of you, dear mother. Surely, you won’t doubt 
me ?” 

“ No, Claud, no. You have always bee«i my pride, latterly 
almost my only hope ; and I know not now but that you must 
be my only staff, on which to lean as I pass down the decline 
of life.” 

“ And I will be one to you, mother ; but come, cheer up, and 
let us go in and talk over these matters more calmly.” 

The mother and son accordingly retired to her usual sitting- 
room ; where, since her overcharged bosbm had found relief in 
tears, and her sinking spirits had been raised by the kind and 
comforting words of her dutiful son, she told him all that had 
occurred during the two preceding days, which constituted the 
brief but eventful period of his absence. They then were be- 
ginning to counsel together on the prospects and probabilities 
of their gloomy future ; but their conversation was suddenly 
cut short by the abrupt entrance of the wretched husband and 
father, who, on liis way from the hotel where he had spent the 
day in sleeping off his debauch in concealment, having received 
an intimation of what was going on among his creditors, had 
hurried home, with a confidence and self-possession which he 
could not summon when he started ; for, out of this movement 
among his creditors, which he still would not believe was any 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


45 


thing more than a sort of practical menace to enforce payment, 
he saw not only how he could frame a plausible excuse for hU 
guilty absence, but make the circumstance an irresistible plea for 
forcing from his brother a loan sulficient to enable him to arrest 
his failure and continue business. On entering the room, there- 
fore, after saluting his wife and son in a sort of brisk, unconcerned 
manner, and muttering that he “ thought they would never let 
him get home again,” he eagerly inquired for Arthur ; and, on 
being informed that his brother had started for his home, with- 
out leaving any note or word for him, and especially on being 
told by his son — ^as be at length calmly and persistingly was, 
in despite of his multiplied prevarications and denials, what 
they all knew, and what he himself should have been the last 
to be ignora-Ut of — that the question of his failure, for more 
than he could ever pay, had already been settled against him, 
he became frantic in the outpourings of his rage, disappoint- 
ment, and chagrin ; sometimes declaring that the world, grown 
envious of his prosperity, had all suddenly become his enemies, 
and grossly belied him ; sometimes savagely charging his 
brother, wife, and son with conspiring together against him ; 
and sometimes cursing his own blindness and folly. And thus 
he continued to rave, and walk the room for hours, till his wife 
and son, having partaken their evening meal before his unheed- 
ing eyes, and become sick and wearied in listening to his insane 
ravings, — to which they had wholly ceased making any reply, 
— retired to rest, leaving him to partake such food as was left 
on the table, to occuf)y, as he chose to do, the same sofa whicfa 
his hapless wife bad done the night before, to sleep down the 
wild commotion of his feelings, and awake a calmer and more 
humbled, but not yet a better or much wiser man. 

But we do not propose to describe in detail the rapid descent 
from opulence and station to poverty and insigniticance, which 
now transpired to mark this era in the singular fortunes of 
Elwood and his family. Their history, for the next three 
months, was but the usual painful one which awaits the failed 


46 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


merchant everywnere in the cities. The crushing sense of 
misfortune which, for the first few days after the unexpected 
blow has fallen, weighs down the self-deceived or otherwise 
unprepared victims ; the succeeding weeks of dejection and 
mortified pride; then the painful trial of parting with the 
showy equipage, the costly furniture, and the cherished memen- 
toes, which had required, perhaps, the care of half a life in 
gathering; then the compulsory abdication of the great and 
conspicuous mansion for the small, obscure, hired cottage ; then 
the saddening bodings and deep concern felt in seeing the 
means of living daily diminishing, with no prospect of ever 
being replenished ; and, finally, the humiliating resort of the 
wife and children to the needle or menial employments, for 
the actual necessaries of life, — these, all these, are but the 
usual graduated vicissitudes of sorrow and trial which are 
allotted to those whose folly and extravagance have suddenly 
thrown them on the downward track of fortune, and which the 
El woods, in common with others, were now doomed to experi- 
ence, and, on the part of Mrs. Elwood, especially, with aggra- 
vations not necessarily incident to such reverses. She would 
have borne all the deprivations and evils incident to her hus- 
band’s failure without a murmur, could she have seen in him 
any amendment in those habits and vicious inclinations which 
had led to his downfall. But she could not. The hopes she 
had confidently entertained, that his misfortunes would humble 
and reform him, were doomed to disappointment. He still 
madly clung to his old associates of the gambling-table; and 
all the money he could get was lost or squandered among them, 
till he became too poor and desperate even for them, and they 
drove him from their society to join another and a lower 
set, who in turn compelled him to seek other still lower and 
more degraded associations. And so descended, step by step, 
along the path of degradation, the once princely merchant, till, 
despised and shunned by all respectable men, he became the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOQ. 47 

fit companion of the meanest thimble-riggers of the cellars 
and the lounging tip) lers of the sirec ts. 

llis case, however, as hopeless as it might appear, was not 
permitted to become an irretrievable one. Through a seem- 
ingly accidental circumstance, a light one day broke on his be- 
clouded and half-maddened brain, that led to a self-redemption 
as happy for himself and family as it was unexpected by all. 
A former friend, one morning, moved perhaps by his forlorn 
appearance, in passing him with a light carriage, invited him 
to ride a few miles into the country; where, being unexpectedly 
called off in another direction, he left Elwood to return on foot 
by a nearer route across the fields to his home. After travel- 
ling some distance, he reached an elevation which overlooked 
the city, and, feeling a little fatigued, he sat down on a mossy 
hillock to rest and enjoy the prospect. As he cast his eye over 
that busy haunt of men, with its numerous spires shooting up- 
ward, its long lines of princely dwellings, its encircling forest 
of masts, its lofty warehouses, and other evidences of wealth 
and business, his own former important participation in its 
busy scenes, and his present worse than insignificant position 
there, rose in vivid contrast in his awakening mind ; and the 
thought of his past but squandered wealth came up only to add 
poignancy to the sense of his present poverty and humiliation, 
which thus, and for the first time, was brought home to his 
agitated bosom. Suddenly leaping from his seat, from the 
torturing force of the reflection, he exclaimed : “ Must I bear 
this ? Cannot I still be a man ? I will ! yes, before Heaven, 
I will ! ” And, resuming his seat, his mind became intently 
engaged in studying out ways and means for carrying the sud- 
den but stern resolution into effect ; when, after another hour 
thus employed, he again jumped up, and, with the air of one 
who has reached some unalterable conclusion, he rapidly made 
his way homeward. 

While the besotted Elwood was undergoing, so unexpectedly, 
even to himself, such a moral transformation in the solitude of 


48 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

the fields, an event occurred to his sorrowful wife at home, 
which was equally unexpected to Acr; which, though of a 
wholly different character, produced an equally great revulsion 
in her feelings as the one happening to her husband, about 
the same hour, was to him, or was producing in /n's feelings, 
and which, by the singular coincidence, seemed to indicate that 
the angel of mercy w^as at length spreading his wings at the 
same time over both heads of this unfortunate family. She 
had been having one of her most disconsolate days, and was 
sitting alone in her little room, gloomily pondering over her 
disheartening trials, wdthout being able to see one ray of light 
in the dark future, when she received a call from one of her 
husband’s chief creditors ; wdio announced that those creditors, 
at a recent meeting, having ascertained her meritorious conduct 
and needy situation, had voted her the sum of five hundred 
dollars, which, confiding in her discretion for a judicious outlay 
of the money, he now, he said, had the pleasure of presenting 
her. And, having placed the money in her hands, and taken 
the tear of gratitude — w^hich, preventing the utterance of the 
word-thanks she attempted, had started to her cheek at the un- 
expected boon — as a sufficient acknowledgment, he kindly bade 
her adieu, and departed. 

That evening the husband and wife met as they had not for 
months before : each at first surprised at seeing the unclouded 
brow and hopeful countenance of the other, but each soon in- 
stinctively feeling that something had occurred to both, which 
wms not only of present moment, but the harbinger of happier 
days to come. When confidence and hope are springing up in 
doubtful or despairing bosoms, the tongue is soon loosened 
from the frosts of reserve, however closely they may have be- 
fore imprisoned it. Elwmod, with many expressions of regret 
at his past conduct, and of wonder at the blindness and folly 
which had permitted him so long to persevere in it, told his 
gratified companion all that had that day passed through his 
Blind, — his sudden sense of shame and degradation; his bitter 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


49 


self-reproaches, and succeeding determination to reform ; to 
atone for the past, as far as he could, by future good conduct; 
to begin, in fine, the world anew, and, after placing himself 
beyond the reach of those temptations to which he had so fatally 
yielded, devote the remainder of his days to honest industry. 
And she, anxious to encourage and strengthen him, and fearing 
his total want of means might defeat his good resolutions, — she, 
also, as she believed it would be true wisdom to do, informed 
him of her good fortune, and offered him a [)ortion of her unex- 
pected acquisition, to enable him to engage in such business as 
he should decide to follow. They then discussed, and soon 
mutually agreed on, the expediency of leaving the city, w'here, 
as they had once there enjoyed wealth and station, they must 
both ever be subjected to mortifying contrasts, — both constantly 
doomed 

“ To see profusion which they must not share/' — 

and he be exposed to temptations which he might not always 
have the firmness to withstand. 

“ But I resolved,” said Elwood, after a pause, “not only on 
going to the country, but on to a new lot of land in the very 
outskirts of civilization. You, however, should I succeed in 
getting up comfortable quarters, would not be content to make 
such a place your home?” 

“ Anywhere, Mark ; and the farther from the dangerous 
influences of this .wicked city, the better. Yes, to the very 
depths of the wilderness, and I will not complain.” 

“It is .settled, then. I was once, in one of my early excur- 
sions, along the borders of the wild lakes lying on the noinh- 
eastern line of New Hampshire, where a living may be obtained 
from the cultivation of the soil alone ; but where more may be 
made, at particular seasons, in taking the valuable furs that 
there abound. There I will go, contract for a lot of land, and 
prepare a home, leaving you, and Claud, if' he shall decide for 
a woodman’s life, to come on and join me next summer.” 

4 


50 


GAUT GtTRLEY. 


“ That Claud will do ; for he often declares himself disgusted 
with the trickery of trade, and to be longing for the country 
life of his boyhood. But here he comes, and ‘can speak for 
himself.” 

The son now joined in the family deliberations, and learning, 
with surprise and gratification, w'hat liad occurred during the 
eventful day, joyfully fell in with his father’s proposition ; when 
it was soon decided that the latter should take half the money 
that day given to Mrs. Elwood, to lay out in a lot of’ land and 
house, and immediately proceed on his journey. 

Whatever Mark Elwood had once firmly d(*cided on, he was 
always prompt and energetic in executing. Before nine o’clock 
that evening, his knapsack of clothing was made up for a jour- 
ney on foot, which, contrary to the wishes of his wife and son, 
he decided should be his mode of travelling. He then went 
to bed, slept six hours, rose, dressed, bade his family good-by, 
turned his back on the now loathed city, and, by sunrise next 
morning, was ^r on his way towards his designated home 
among the distant wilds of the North. 


CHAPTER V. 


There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 

There is a rapture in the lonely shore, 

There is society where none intrudes, — 

I love not man the less, but nature more.” 

Once, more in the green wilderness! Welcome the wild 
scenes of our boyhood, which, as the checkered panorama of 
the past is unrolled at our bidding, rise on the mental vision 
in all their original freshness and beauty! It was here we 
first essayed to study the works of nature, and in them trace 
the Master-hand that moulded and perfected them. It was 
here we learned to recognize the voice of God in the rolling 
thunder, and his messengers in the swift-winged lightnings ; tc 
mark the forms of beauty and grandeur in every thing, from 
the humble lichen of the logs and rocks, to the high and tower- 
ing pine of the plain and .the mountain, — from the low mur- 
murings of the quiet rivulet, to the loud thunderings of the 
headlong cataract, — and from the soft whisperings of the gentle 
breeze, to the angry roar of the desolating tornado; and, 
finally, it was here that our first and most enduring lessons of 
devotion were learned, here that our first and truest concep- 
tions of the grand and beautiful were acquired, and here that 
the leading tone of our intellectual character, such as it may 
be, was generated and stamped oh us for life. 

The second part of our story, to which the preceding chapters 
should be taken, perhaps, as merely introductory, opens about 
midsummer, and among that remarkable group of sylvan lakes 
— nearly a dozen in number — which, commencing on the 
wild borders of northerly New Hampshire, and shooting off 
in an irregular line some fifty miles northeasterly into the 

( 51 ) 


62 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


dark and unbroken forests of Maine, appear on the map, ia 
their strangely shapeless forms and scattered locations, as if 
they must have been hurled, by the hand of some Borean 
giant, down from the North Pole in a volley of huge ice-blocks, 
which fell and melted where they now lie, sparkling, like rough 
gems, on the shaggy bosom of the wilderness. 

Near the centre of an opening of perhaps a dozen acres, 
about a mile from where the sinuous Androscoggin debouches 
full grown, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter, from its 
parent reservoir, the picturesque Urnbagog, stood a newly 
rigged log house, of dimensions and finish which indicated more 
taste and enterprise than is usually exhibited in the rude habi- 
tations of the first settlers. It was a story and a half high, 
and the walls were built of solid pine timber, originally roughly 
hewed, but recently dressed down with broad axe over the 
whole outward and inner surfaces so smoothly that, at a little 
distance, they presented, with their still visible seams, more the 
appearance of the wainscoting of some costly cottage than 
the humble log cabin. The building had also been newly 
shingled, new doors supplied, the windows enlarged, the yard 
around leveled off, with other improvements, of a late date, 
betokening considerable ambition *for appearance, and con- 
siderable outlay of means, for so new a place, to fit up a tidy 
and comfortable abode for the occupants. In the surrounding 
field were patches of growing maize, wheat, potatoes, and some 
of the common table vegetables ; the hay crop for the winter 
sustenance of the only cow and yoke of oxen, the best friends 
of tlie new settler, having been just cut and stored in an ad- 
joining log-building, as was evident from the fresh look of the 
stubble, and the stray straws hanging to the slivered stumps oi 
bushes in the field, and from the fragrant and far-scenting locks 
protruding from the upper and lower windows of the well- 
crammed receptacle passing under the name of barn. Beyond 
this little opening, and bounding it on evei7 side, stood the en- 
circling wall of woods, through and over which gleamed the 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


63 


bright waters of the far-spreading Urnbagog on the north; 
while all around, towering up in their green glories, rose, one 
above another, the amphitheatric hills, till their lessening in- 
dividual forms were lost, or mingled in the vision with the 
lofty summits of the distant White Mountains in the south and 
west, and of the bold detached eminences which shot up from 
the dark wilderness and studded the horizon in all other direc- 
tions. 

Such, and in such a locality, was, as the reader probably has 
already inferred, the residence which Mark Elwood had pitched 
upon for beginning life anew. On leaving the city, as repre- 
sented in the last chapter, he had, under the goading remem- 
brance of follies left behind, and the incitements of hope-con- 
structed prospects before, perseveringly pushed on, till he 
. reached this lone and wild terminus of civilized life ; when, 
finding, a mile beyond the last of the scattered settlements of 
the vicinity, a place on which an opening had been made and 
the walls and roof of a spacious log house erected, the year 
before, he had succeeded in purchasing it, for ready money, at 
a price which was much below its value, and which left him 
nearly half his little fund to be expended in more thoroughly 
clearing the land, getting in crops, making the house habitable, 
and felling an additional tract of forest. And with so much 
energy and resolution had he pursued his object of seeing him- 
self and family once more united at a comfortable home, that, 
within three months from the time he commenced operations, 
which was in the first of the spring months, he had accom-. 
plished it all ; for his wife and son, rejoicing in the knowledge 
of his success which he had communicated to ihem, and 
promptly responding to his invitation to join him, had come on, 
with their little all of goods and money, in teams hired for the 
purpose ; and they were now all together fully installed in their 
pew home, pleasf^d with the novelty and freshness of every 
thing around them, proud and secure in their conscious inde- 
pendence and exemption from the dangers and trials they had 


54 GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

recently passed through, and contented and happy in theii 
situation. 

The particular time we have taken for the reappearance of 
the family on this, their new stage of action, was a warm but 
breezy afternoon on one of the last days of July. El wood 
was engaged in his new-mown field, in cutting and grubbing up 
the bushes and sprouts which had sprung up during the season 
around the log-heaps and stumps, and could not easily or con- 
veniently be cut by the common scythe while mowing the 
grass. He was no longer robed in the broadcloth and fine 
linen, in which, as the rich merchant, he might have been 
seen, perhaps, one year ago that day, sauntering about “ on 
^change ” among the solid men of Boston. These had been 
mostly worn out or sold during the changing fortunes of the 
year, and their place was now wdsely supy^lied by the long tow- 
frock and the other coarse garments in common use among the 
settlers. Nor had his physical appearance undergone a much 
less change. Instead of the pallid brow, leaden eye, fleshly 
look, and the red cheek of the wine-bibber and luxurist of the 
cities, he exhibited the embrowned, thin, but firm and healthy 
face, and the clear and cheerful complexion of the contented 
laborer of the country, — tell-tale looks both, which we always 
encounter with as much secret disgust in the former as we do 
with involuntary respect in the latter. He now paused in his 
labors, and stood for some time looking about the horizon, as if 
watching the signs of the weather ; now noting the progress of 
.the haze gathering in the south, and now turning his cheek 
first one way and then another, apparently to ascertain the 
doubtful direction of the wind, which, from a lively western 
bre(*ze, had within the last hour lulled down into those small, 
fluctuating puffs usually observable when counter-currents are 
springing up, balancing, and beginning to strive for the mastery. 
After a while he moved slowly towards the house, continuing 
his observations as he went, till he came near the open window 
at which Mrs. Elwood was sitting at her needle-work, from 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


65 


which she occasionally lifted her eyes, and glanced somewhat 
anxiously along the path leading down through the woods to a 
landing-place on the lake ; when, looking round and observing 
her husband standing near, giving token of being about to speak, 
she interposed and said : 

“You have seen nothing of Claud, I suppose ? Wliat can 
be tlie reason why he does not return ? He was to have been 
at home long before this, was he not ? ” 

“ Yes,” carelessly replied Elwood, “ unless he concluded to 
take a bout in the woods. He took his fowling-piece with him, 
to u :e in case the trout wouldn’t bite, you know. Phillips, the 
old hunter, came into the field where we were last night, and 
said he was out of meat, and must skirt the lake to-day for a 
buck. I presume Claud may have joined him. There! hark! 
that sounded like Claud’s piece,” he added, as the distant report 
of a gun rose from the woods westward of the lake and died 
away in swelling echoes on the opposite shore. “ And there, 
again ! ” he continued, as another and sharper report burst, the 
next moment, from the same locality, — “ there goes another, 
but not his, as he could not have loaded so quick. That must 
have been Phillips’ long rifle. They are doubtless together 
somewhere near the Magalloway, — some three miles distant, 1 
should judge, — and are probably having fine sport with some- 
thing.” 

“ That may be the case, perhaps,” responded Mrs. Elwood. 
“ I wish, however, he would come ; for I cannot yet quite divest 
myself of the idea that there may be danger in these wild scenes 
of the lakes and the woods. But what was you about to say 
when I first spoke? Y’'ou were going to say something, I 
thought.” 

“ O — yes — why, I was about to say that I had made up 
my mind to set fire to the slash. It is dry enough now to get a 
good burn ; and it looks to me a good deal like rain. I wish 
to get the land cleared and ready to sow with winter wheat by 


56 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


the first of September ; and I don’t like to risk the chance of 
inding every thing in so good order again.” 

“ There is no danger that the fire will spread, or be blown 
to the buildings, is there?” 

“ No, the wind is springing up in the south now, and will 
drive the fire only towards the lake in the direction of the 
landing.” 

“ But Claud may be there.” 

“ Well, if he should be, the fire won’t burn up the lake, I 
think ; and, if it besets the path in the woods, he can come round 
some other way,” jocosely said Elwocd, moving away to carry 
his purpose into execution. 

Having procured a parcel of splinters split from the dry and 
resinous roots of some old pine stub, — that never-failing and 
by no means contemptible substitute for lamp or candle among 
the pioneers of a pine-growing country,— he proceeded rapidly 
to the edge of the slash^ as a tract of felled forest is generally 
denominated by the first settlers, especially of the northern 
States. Here, pausing a moment to mark with his eye the 
most favorable places to communicate tlie fire, he picked his 
way along the southern end to the faidhest side of the tangled 
mass of trees of every description composing the slash, wliich 
was a piece of some four or five acres, lying on the western 
border and extending north and south the whole length of the 
opening. And, having reached his destination, and kindled ail 
his splinters into a blaze, he threw one of them into the thickest 
nest of pine or other evergreen boughs at hand, and darted back 
to his next marked station, where he threw in another of his 
blazing torches, and so on till he reached the cleared ground, 
which was not one moment too soon for his safety. For so 
dry and inflammable had every thing there become, under the 
scorching sun of the preceding fortnight, which had been re- 
lieved by neither rain nor cloud, that, the instant the fire touched 
the tinder-like leaves, it flashed up as from a parcel of scattered 
gunpowder ; and, bursting with almost explosive quickness aU 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


57 


aroiind, and swiftly leaping from bough to bough and treetop 
to treetop, it spread with such astonishing celerity that he 
found it hard on his heels, or whirling in a hot cloud over his 
head, at every pause he made to throw in a new but now un- 
necessary torch, in his rapid and constantly quickened run 
through the slash. And when, after running some distance 
into the open field, to escape the stifling smoke and heat by 
wliich he was even there assailed, he turned round to note 
more fully the surprising progress that the terrible element he 
had thus let loose was making, he beheld all that part of the 
slash which he had a moment before passed through already 
envtdoped, from side to side, in a continuous blaze, whose red, 
curling crest, mounting every instant higher and higher, was 
advancing with the seeming speed of a race-horse on its fiery 
destination. Half-appalled by the sight of such a sudden and 
unexpected outburst of the fire he had kindled, Klwood hurried 
on to his house, and joined his startled wife in the yard ; when 
the two took station on an adjoining knoll, and looked down 
upon the conflagration in progress with increasing wonder and 
uneasiness, — so comparatively new was the scene to them 
both, and so far did it promise to exceed all their previous con- 
ceptions, in magnitude and grandeur, of any thing of the kind 
to be met with in the new settlements. And it was, indeed, a 
grand and fearful spectacle; For, with constantly increasing 
fury, and with the rapidity of the wind before which it was 
driving, still raged and rolled on the red tempest of fire. Now 
surging aloft, and streaking with its winding jets of flame the 
fiercely whirling clouds of smoke that marked its advance, and 
now dying away fn hoarse murmurs, as if to gather strength 
for the new and more furious outburst that the next moment 
followed, it kept on its terrific march till it reached the central 
elevation, which embraced the most tangled, densely covered, 
and combustible part of the slash, and on which had been left 
standing an enormous dry pine, that towered so up high above 


58 


GATJT GURLEY; OR, 


the surrounding forest as to have long served as a landmark fof 
the hunters and fishermen, in setting their courses through the 
woods or over the lake. Here the fiery billow, as if governed 
by the human tactics of a military assault, paused, parted, and 
swept by on either side, till it had inclosed the elevation ; 
when suddenly it shot up from every side in an hundred con- 
verging tongues of flame, which, soon meeting and expanding 
into one, quickly enveloped the whole hill in one broad, un- 
broken robe of sheeted fire, encompassed and mounted the 
veteran pine, and around its colossal trunk formed a huge, 
whirling pyramid of mingling smoke and flame that rose to the 
mid-heavens, shedding, in place of the darkened sun, a lurid 
glare over the forest, and sending forth the stormy roar of a 
belching volcano. The next moment a shower of cinders and 
the burning fragments of twigs, bark, and boughs which had 
been carried high up by the force of the ascending currents, 
fell hot and hissing to the earth over every part of the adjoining 
fields, to and even far beyond the spot where Klwood and his 
wife were standing. 

“ Good Heavens ! ” exclaimed Elwood, aroused from the 
mute amazement with which he and his more terrified com- 
panion had been beholding the scene, as soon as these indications 
of danger were thus brought to his very feet. “ Good Heavens ! 
this is more than I bargained for. See, — the fire is catching 
on the stumps all over the field ! ” 

“ The house ! ” half-screamed Mrs. Elwood. “ What is that 
rising from the shingles up there near the top of the roof.^” 

“ Smoke, as I am alive 1 ” cried the other, in serious alarm, as 
he glanced up to the roof, where several slender threads of 
smoke were beginning to steal along the shingles. “ Run, 
Alice, run with the pails for the brook, while I throw up the 
ladder against the gable. We must be lively, or within one 
hour we shall be as houseless as beggars.” 

0, where is Claud ? where is Claud ? ” exclaimed the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


69 


distressed wife and mother, as she flew to the house to do her 
husbiind’s bidding. 

Yes, where was Claud ? At the risk of the charge of pur- 
posely tantalizing the reader, we must break off here, to follow 
the young man just named, in the unexpected adventures which 
he also had experienced during that eventful day. But for 
this we will take a new chapter. 





CHAPTER VI. 


“ To sit on rocks, to muse o’er flood and fell, 

To slowly trace the forest’s shady scene, 

Wliere thinj^s that own not man’s dominion dwell, 

And mortal foot hath ne’er, or rarely, been ; 

To climb the trackless mountain aJ unseen, 

With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; 

Alone o’er steeps and foaming falls to lean, — 

This is not Solitude : ’tis but to hold 

Converse with nature’s charms, and view her stores unroll’d.* 

It was about the middle of the forenoon, on the day marked 
by the incidents narrated in the preceding chapter, when Claud 
Elwood, who had become pretty well initiated into the sports 
of the locality, entered his light canoe, with his fishing-tackle and 
fowling-piece, and pushed out upon the broad bosom of the 
forest-girt Umbagog. Having had the best success, when up 
on the lake the last time, on the western margin, he pulled away 
in that direction, and, after rowing a couple of miles up the 
1-ake, he laid down his oai’, unrolled his elm-bark cable, and let 
down his stone anchor, at a station a furlong or so from the 
shore. 

It was a beautiful spot, and a beautiful day to enjoy it in. 
From the water’s edge rose, deeply enslirouded in their bright 
green, flowing, and furbelowed robes of tliickly interwoven 
pines, the undulating hills, back to the summit level of that long, 
narrow tongue of forest land, which, for mjiny miles, only sepa- 
rates the Umbagog from the parallel Magalloway, the noble 
stream that here comes rushing down from the British high- 
lands, to join the scarcely larger Androscogg’n, almost at the 
very outset of its “ varied journey to the deep.” Turning from 

< 60 ) 


THE TRAPPERS OP TJMBAGOG. 


61 


this magnificent swell on the west, the eye, as it wandered to 
the right over the bright expanse of intervening waters, next 
rested on the long, crescent-shaped mountain ridge, behind which 
slept, in their still deeper and wilder seclusion, the broad Moose- 
eluk-maguntic and the Molechunk-a-mnnk, which, with the Urn- 
bagog, make up the three principal links in this remarkable chain 
of lakes. Still farther to the right lay the seemingly boundless, 
rolling forests, forming the eastern and southern rim of this 
basin of the lakes ; whose gradually sloping sides, like some old 
pinnacled city, were everywhere bristling with the giant forms 
of the heaven-aspiring pine, and whose nearer recesses were 
pierced, in the midst, by the long, lessening line of the gleam- 
ing Umbagog ; while around the whole circle of the horizon, 
scattered here and there far back into the blue distance, rose 
mountain after mountain in misty grandeur to the heavens. 

After thus slowly sweeping the horizon, to note, for the 
tenth time, perhaps, the impressive character of the scenery, 
whose everywhere intermingling beauty and grandeur he was 
never tired of contemplating, Claud withdrew his gaze, and 
turned his attention to the more immediate object of his excur- 
sion. After a few moments spent in regulating his hook and 
line, he strung his angle-rod, and threw out to see whether he 
could succeed in tempting, at that unfavorable hour, the fickle 
trout from their watery recesses. But all in vain the attempt. 
Not a trout was seen stirring the water at the surface, or mani- 
festing his presence around the hook beneath ; and all the en- 
deavors which the tantalized angler made, by changing the bait, 
and throwing the line in different directions around him, proved, 
for the next hour, equally fruitless. While he was tlius en- 
gaged, intently watching his line, each moment ex{)ectiiig that 
the next must bring him a bite, one of those peculiar, subdued, 
but far-reaching sounds, which are made by the grazing of the oar 
against the side of the boat in rowing, occasionally greeted his 
ear from some point to the south of him ; though, for a while, 
nothing was to be seen to indicate by whom the sounds were 


62 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


produced. Soon, however, a man in a canoe, who had been 
coasting, unseen, along the indentures of the shore, and whom 
Claud instantly recognized as Phillips, the hunter already 
named, shot round a neighboring point, and, in a few minutes 
more, was at his side. 

“Well, what luck?” cheerily exclaimed Phillips, a keen, 
hawk-eyed, self-possessed looking man, with a round, compact, 
and sinewy frame. “ What luck to-day, young man ?” 

“ None whatever,” replied Claud, with an air of disappoint- 
ment. 

“ I suppose so. unless you began before ten o’clock.” 

“ But why did you supy^ose so ?” 

“ O, I knew it from my knowledge of human natui’e,” said 
the hunter, humorously. “ Trout are very much like other 
folks, only a great deal moi-e sensitive to heat. Now, you 
don’t see men, who are well fixed under a cool shade in a swel- 
tering hot day, very anxious to run out bare-headed in the sun, 
when there is no call for it ; much less, then, the trout, that 
can’t bear the sun and heat at all. Though there are, probably, 
a ton of them within a stone’s throw of us, not one will come 
out with this bright sun ; they are lying behind the rocks and 
bid logs at the bottom, and won’t begin to circulate these three 
hours.” 

“ And are you not a-going to try them ? ” 

“ I ? No ; I would as soon think of fishing now on the top 
of these hills. Besides this, I have a different object. 1 am 
bound to carry home something that will pass for fresh meat, 
if it is nothing but a coon. I shall haul up my canoe some- 
where about here ; follow up the lake-shore a mile or so, with 
the idea of catching a deer in the edge of the water, come there 
to keep off the flies ; then, perhaps, cross over to the Magallo- 
way, down that, and over to this place ; when, by way of top- 
ping off, I will show you, by that time, if you are about here so 
long, how trout are taken.” 

So saying, the hunter dipped his springy oar into the water. 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


63 


and, witTi a few vigorous strokes, sent his canoe to the shore, 
and, having moored it to a root, he glided into the thickets, and 
disappeared with a tread so noiseless as to leave Claud, for 
many minutes, wholly in doubt whether the man was standing 
still in the bushes or proceeding on his excursion. 

It was now noon, and Claud, seeing no prospect of any imme- 
diate success in his piscatory employment, which had been 
made to appear to him, by the remarks of the hunter, more dis- 
couraging than ever, drew up his anchor, and rowed to a point 
of the shore which was embowered by a group of magnificent 
pines. Here, finding a cool spring, as well as a refreshing 
shade, he drew out his lunch, and very leisurely proceeded to 
discuss it, with the ice-cold water of the spring by which he 
had seated himself for the purpose. His fare was coarse ; but it 
was partaken with a relish of which those who have never ex- 
perienced the effects of the air and exercise, incident to a life 
in the woods, can have no just conception ; and to which the 
palled appetite of the 

“ vain lords of luxury and ease, 

Whom slumber soothes not, pleasure cannot please,” 

is poor in comparison, though all the king’s banquets and me- 
tropolitan feasts in the world should vie together to make good 
the substitute. Claud’s life had thus far been, in the main, a 
quiet and commonplace one ; nothing having occurred to him 
to arouse those strong and over-mastering passions to which it 
is the lot of most of us, at some period of our lives, to become 
subjected. It had been checkered, however, by one bit of ro- 
mance, which, to say the least, had greatly excited his imagina- 
tion. About a year previous to the time of which we are now 
writing, and one day while he was walking the streets of Bos- 
ton, a small, closely -enwrapped package was put in his hand 
by an unknown boy, who, with the simple announcement, “/br 
yoa^ aS'/V,” turned quickly away, and made off with the air of 
one who has completed his Hjission. and wouhl avoid being 


64 


OAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


qaestioned. Glancing within the wrapper, and perceiving it 
inclosed a small encased picture, or likeness, of some female, 
which he thought must have been delivered to him through mis- 
take, Claud looked hastily round for the messenger, and, not see- 
ing him, he walked backward and forward along the street, and 
lingered some time in the vicinity, still expecting the boy would 
soon return to claim the package. But, being disappointe<l in 
this, he went home, and, retiring to his room, undid the wrap- 
per, which he carefully but vainly examined for some name, 
mark, or other clue to the mystery ; and then, with much in- 
terest, fell to inspecting the picture. It was, obviously, a well- 
painted miniature likeness of a fair, dark-eyed girl, but repre- 
senting no remembered face, except in the peculiar expression 
of the strong and commanding countenance ; which, he thought, 
eitliim in man or woman, he must have somewhere before en- 
countered. The whole likeness, indeed, together with the cir- 
cumstances under which it came into his hands, made, at the 
time, a lively impression on his mind ; and, keeping the affair 
wholly to himself, he often contemplated that fair face in pri- 
vate; and, for months afterwards, he never was in a public as- 
sembly, where the sex were present, without running his eye 
over it in search of the original. But, as he never found it, the 
imj)ression gradually wore away, and, in the exciting changes 
that had occurred in the fortunes of his family, it had been 
nearly obliterated from his mind ; when, that morning, while 
searching his trunk for some implement belonging to his gun, 
he came across the minature, and put it in his pocket. And 
now, in the leisure that followed his repast, he bethought him of 
it ; and, laying it before him on the bed of moss on which lie wa>> 
reclining, he contemplated it with renewed interest, and that sor^ 
of dreamy enthusiasm which the sudden revival of old associa- 
tions in such solitudes is apt to awaken in the mind, especially 
when those associations are connected, as now, with a matter of 
mystery and romance. 

After indulging in his reveries a while, he put up his mbia« 


THE TRAPPERS OP TJMBAGOO, 


65 


tnre, aroused himself from his day-dream, and rose to his feet 
when, feeling inclined for some kind of action, he decided on a 
short excursion in the woods, in the direction of the Magalloway, 
where probably he. would fall in with Phillips, and return with 
him to the lake. Accordingly, after loading his gun with ball 
and buckshot, so as to be prepared for any large wild animals 
he might chance to encounter, he leisurely took his way through 
the heavy, ascending forest that lay in his course ; here pausing 
to note the last night’s bed of some solitary bear, and there to 
trace the marks of the death-struggle of a victim deer, that, with 
all its vigilance and wondrous agility, had been surprised and 
brought down by the stealthy and far-leaping catamount. The 
ever-varying tenants of the forest, also, were constantly present- 
ing, as he passed on, some novelty to attract his unaccustomed 
eye ; now in the smooth, tall shaft of the fusiform fir — the 
dandy of the forest — standing up with its beautiful cone-shaped 
top among its rougher neighbors, trim and straight as the bon- 
netted cavalier of the old pictures, among the slouchy form»^ of 
his homelier but worthier opponents ; now in the low and stocky 
birch standing on its broad, staunch pedestal of strongly-braced 
roots below, and throwing out widely above its giant arms, as if 
striving to shoulder and stay up the weight of the superincum- 
bent forest ; and now in the imperial pine, proudly lifting its 
tall form an hundred feet over the tops of the plebeian trees 
around, to revel in the upper currents of the air. or bathe its 
crowning plumes of living green in the clouds of heaven. 

I’roceeding in this, manner, he at length found himself gradu- 
ally descending the western slope of the hill ; when he soon 
arrived in the vicinity of the river, a glimpse of which, together 
with a small clearing and a tidy-looking cottage on its banks, 
he now caught through the tops of the intervening trees. While 
still walking on, his attention was attracted to a comparatively 
open place in the woods, where, at some previous period, a 
severe fire had killed all the smaller trees, and consumed the 

underbrush, which had been replaced by scattering shrubs of the 
5 


66 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


white poplar intermingled with a plentiful growth of the black* 
raspberry, whose luscious fruit — the first to reward the 
pioneer, and for which he has to contend sharply with the; birds 
and bears to obtain his share — was now beginning to ripen. 
As he was entering this open space, which appeared to extend 
some distance round the point of a screening knoll, he was sud- 
denly brought to a stand by a noise somewhere in the bushes 
or woods ahead, such as had never before saluted his ears. It 
was like nothing else, or if any thing else, like the wild snort- 
ing of a frightened horse prolonged into the dying note of the 
steam whistle. Claud recoiled a step before the unaccustomed 
sound, and involuntarily cocked and raised his gun to his 
shoulder. But he was allowed no time to speculate. The 
next instant, the loud and piercing shriek of a female, nearer 
but in the same direction, rose and rang through the forest. 
With a speed quickened at every step by the rapidly repeated 
cry of distress, he bounded towards the spot, when, turning the 
point of the knoll, he suddenly found himself in full view of 
the object of his solicitude, — a girl, in the full bloom of youth- 
ful beauty, who, with bonnet thrown back and her loosened 
hair streaming in wild disorder over her shoulders, instantly 
rushed forward for his protection. Claud stopped short, in 
mute surprise at the unexpected apparition ; for the first glance 
at her face told him that the original of his mysterious minia- 
ture was before him, — before him, here in the woods ! Breath- 
less and speechless in her wild affright, she pointed, with a 
glance over her shoulder, to a thick, high tangle of large, 
strongly limbed, knotty, windfallen trees, a short distance 
behind her, and fled past him to the rear. Looking in the 
indicated direction, the startled and perplexed young man dis- 
tinguished the outlines of a monstrous moose madly plunging 
at the woody barrier, and trying to force his enormous antlers 
through the unyielding limbs preparatory to leaping it in pur- 
suit of his victim, who had eluded the infuriated animal, and 
barely escaped the fatal blows of his uplifted hoofs, by creeping 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 07 

under the providentially placed obstruction. Claud instantly 
raised his piece, when, feeling uncertain of his aim, he withheld 
his fire, and stood waiting for a fairer view. But, before he 
could obtain it, the moose, tired of vain attempts to force 
his passage through the bristling barricade of logs and limbs 
before him, disappeared for one moment, but the next came 
crashing round the nearest end of it, and, with renewed demon- 
strations of rage and hostility, made directly for the new oppo- 
nent he beheld in his way. Still unalarmed for his own safety, 
Claud waited with levelled gun till his formidable assailant 
was within forty yards of him, when he took a quick aim and 
fired. Reeling under the discharge of his heavily loaded 
piece, and blinded by the smoke, he could not, at first, see the 
effect of his fire ; but when lie did so, the next instant, it was 
only to behold the monster brute, maddened, not stopped, by 
the flesh wounds inflicted, rushing on him with a force and fury 
which compelled him to leap suddenly aside, to avoid being 
beat into the earth by those terrible hoofs, which he saw lifted 
higlier and higiier, at each approaching step, for his destruction. 
Mindful, in his peril, of the precautions already learned from 
the hunters, Claude, while the moose, whose tremendous impetus 
was driving him straight ahead, could break up, so as to turn 
in the pursuit, — Claud made, with all the speed of which he 
w'as master, for a huge hemlock, luckily standing at no great 
distance on his right ; a course which he thought would divert 
the monster from pursuit of the maiden, and, at the same time, 
best insure his own safety. But, so prodigious was the rushing 
speed of the foiled and now doubly exasperated moose, that 
the imperilled huntsman had barely time to reach the sheltering 
tree and dodge behind it, before the hotly pursuing foe was at 
his heels, rasping and tearing with his spiked antlers the rough 
bark of the tree, in his attempts to follow round it near and 
fast enough to overtake and strike down his intended victim. 
Round and round then sped both pursuer and pursued, as fast 
&s the frantic rage of the one, and the keen instinct of self- 


68 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


preservation in the other, could impel them. Although the 
moose, from the great width of his interfering horns, was com- 
pelled to sweep round the tree in a circle requiring him to go 
over double the distance travelled by Claude, yet so much 
greater was his speed, that it called for the utmost exertions 
of the latter to keep clear of the battle-axe blows which he 
heard falling every instant with fatal force behind him. Ilis 
gun had already been struck, sliivered, and beat from his hand; 
and, as he glanced over his shoulder and saw the fierce and 
glaring eyes of his ruthless pursuer, and his uplifted and for- 
ward-thrown hoofs striking closer and closer to his heels at 
every bound, a sense of his deadly peril flashed over his mind 
with that strange and paralyzing effect which the first full con- 
viction of impending death often produces on the. stoutest 
hearts, lie f(dt his strength giving way, his brain beginning 
to whirl, and he was on the point of yielding himself to his 
fate ; when a stream of smoke and flame accompanied the 
startling report of a rifle, shot out from the edge of a neighbor- 
ing thicket. The moose gave a convulsive start, floundered 
forward on his knees, swayed backward and forwai-d an instant, 
then fell over broad-side into the bushes with a heavy crash, 
straightened out, gasped, and died. 

“ Dunno but you’ll think I waited too long, young man,” 
cried Phillips, now advancing with a quick, lea})ing step from 
his covert. “ The fact was, I felt, on seeing you getting into 
such close quarters, that I had better be rather particular 
about my aim, so as to stop him at once ; besides that, I was at 
first a little out of breath. I had heard the fellow blow when 
an hundred rods off, — then the woman screjtm, — then your 
gun ; and, thinking like enough there would be trouble, I leggeo 
it foi the spot, and got to my stand just as he treed you.” 

“ I feel very grateful to you, Mr. Phillips, for this timely 
rescue,” responded Claud, recovering his composure. “ This, I 
suppose, is the far-famed moose ? ” 

“ ITes, and a bouncer at that,” replied the hunter, going up 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


C9 

and, placing his foot on the broad and still quivering flank of 
the huge animal. “ Good twenty hands high, and weighs 
well, not much short of fifteen hundred, I should say.” 

But are they often thus dangerous ? ” asked Claud. 

“ Not very often, perhaps,” rejoined the hunter. “ But still 
the bull moose, at this season of the year, is sometimes, when 
wounded, about as ugly a customer as you meet with in the 
woods. This fellow I judge to have been oncommun vicious, as 
he begun his tantrums before he was touched at all, it seems. 
I dunno but ’twas the woman put the devil into hnn, as women 
do into two-legged animals sometimes, — don’t they, young 
man ? ” 

“ The woman ? O yes, the young lady,” said Claud, re- 
minded of his duty as a gallant by the remark, though unwil- 
ling to apjiropriate to himself the prophetic joke with which it 
was coupled. Wliere is she ? I must go and see to her.” 

“ She has already seen to herself, I guess,” said the hunter. 
“ As I was coming up, I glimpsed her cutting round and run- 
ning, like a wild turkey, for the clearing, to which the moose 
had cut off her retreat. She has reached the house by this 
time, doubtless ; for it is hard by, down on the river here, a 
hundred rods or such a matter.” 

“ Who is she ? Do you know the family ? ” eagerly inquired 
the young man. 

“ No,” answered the hunter. “ They are new-comers in 
these parts.” 

“ Wliat could have brought her here so far into the w^oods ?” 
persisted Claud. 

“ The raspberries, very likely,” said the' other, indifferently, 
while taking out and examining the edge of his knife. “ But 
come, we must get this moose into some condition, so that he will 
keep ; then be off to let the settlers know of our luck. And 
early to-morrow morning, we will, all hands, come up the 
river in boats, and distribute him. He will make fresh meat 
enough to supply the whole settlement.” 


70 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


The hunter now, with the assistance of his new pupil in the 
craft, proceeded to dressing the moose, the process of which, 
bleeding, disemboweling, and partially skinning, was soon com- 
pleted ; when, cutting some stout green skids with the hatchet 
he ever carried in his belt, and inserting the ends under the 
bulky carcass, the two contrived to raise it, by means of old 
logs rolled up for the purpose, several feet from the ground, so 
as to insure a free circulation of air beneath it. This being 
done, the hunter kindled two log fires, one on each side, to 
keep off, he said, the wolves and other carnivorous animals. 
They then, after cutting out the tongue and lip, which are 
esteemed the tidbits of this animal, took up their line of march 
for the lake, which, with the long, rapid lope of the w^oodsman, 
measured off, as usual, in Indian file, and with little or no 
interrupting conversation, they reached in a short time, and 
without further adventure. 

“ Now,” said the hunter, as he reached the spot where his 
canoe was tied, and turned round towards his lagging com- 
panion, — “now, sir, what say you to taking a five-pound 
trout?” 

“ Perfectly willing,” replied Claud, smiling ; “ and I would 
even take up with a smaller one.” 

“ Well, I won’t, — that is, not much smaller; and I think I’ll 
have one of at least the size I named.” 

“ What makes you so confident ? ” 

“ Because, it being a hot, shiny morning, they took to their 
coverts early, and must be sharp-set, by this time. Besides 
that, it is just about the best time for them that could be got 
up : a deep cloud, as you see, is coming over the sun, and this 
wind is moving the water to the bottom. All sizes wdll now 
be coming out, and the big ones, like big folks, will make all 
the little ones stand back till their betters are served.” 

Each now taking to his canoe, they pushed out some twenty 
or thirty rods into the lake, cast anchor, and threw out their 
lines. Claud, who baited with gi’ubs, soon had drawn in two, 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


71 


weighing as many pounds a piece, and began to feel disposed 
to banter the hunter, who had baited with a flap of moose-skin, 
which he had brought along with him, and which, to Claud, 
seemed little likely to attract the fishes to his hook. But he 
soon found himself mistaken ; for, turning to give utterance to 
what was passing in his mind, he beheld the other dallying 
with a trout, which he had hooked, and now held flapping on 
the surface of the water, evidently much larger than either of 
his own. 

“ That is a fine one ! ” cried Claud. “ Why don’t you pull 
him in?” 

“ Not big enough,” said the hunter, in reply to the question ; 
while he turned to the fish with an impatient “ Pshaw ! what 
work the cretur makes of it ! Hop off, hop off*, you fool ! 
There,” he added, as the trout at length broke away and dis- 
appeared, “there, that is right. Now be off with yourself 
till you grow bigger, and give me a chance at the fine fellow 
whose tail I saw swashing up round here just now.” 

The hunter then carelully adjusted his bait, and threw out 
the whole lingth of his line. After alternately sinking his hook, 
and then drawing it to the surface, for two or three throws, the 
line suddenly straightened, moved slowly backward at first, 
then swept rapidly round and round, or darted off in sharp 
short angles, with downward and forward plunges so quick and 
powerful as to make the stout sapling pole sway and bend, like 
a whipstock, in the steadying hands of the hunter. For four 
or five minutes he made no attempt to draw in his prize, but 
let the fish have full play to the length of its tether, till its 
efforts had become comparatively feeble; when, slowly bringing 
it alongside, he took the line in his hand, and, with a quick 
jerk, landed the noble fellow safely on the bottom of the 
canoe. 

“ There, sir ! ” exclaimed the hunter, seizing the trout by the 
gills, and triumphantly holding it up to view, “ there is about 
what I bargained for: two feet long, not an inch shorter,—* 


72 GAtJT GURLEY; OR, 

seven pounds weight, and not an ounce lighterl Now, being 
satisfied, I am done.” 

“What, leave off with such luck?” asked Claud in surprise. 

“Yes, young man,” said the' other, “I hold it all but a down- 
right sin to draw from God’s storehouse a single pound more 
than is really needed. This will last my family as long as h 
will keep, this warm weather, with the plenty of moose-mea' 
we shall have. Any thing more is a waste, which / will not 
commit. And you, sir, who have just hauled in your third and 
largest one, I perceive, and have now nearly as many pounds 
as X have, — what can you want of more ? Come, let us pull 
up and off for our homes. It is nearly time, any way.” 

Although loth to break off his sport, yet inwardly acknowl- 
edging the justness of the hunter’s philosophy, Claud reluctantly 
drew in and wound up his line, hauled in his anchor, and, 
handling his oar, shot out abreast of the other, who had al- 
ready got under way, into the heaving waters of the now 
agitated lake. Side by side, with the quick and easy dip of 
their elastic single oars, the rowers now sent their light, sharp 
canoes, dug out to the thinness of a board from the straight- 
grained dry pine, rapidly ahead over the broken and subdued 
waves of the cove, in which they had been stationed, till they 
rounded the intervening woody point which had cut off the 
view of the lower end of the lake. 

“ Good Heavens ! ” exclaimed Claud, starting back, with sus- 
pended oar, as now, coming out in view of the lake, his eye fell 
on the huge pillar of smoke, which, deeply enshrouding that part 
of the distant forest lying east of the outlet of the lake with its 
expanded base, was rolling upward its thousand dark, doubling 
folds ; “ good Heavens, Phillips, look yonder ! Where and what 
is it ? It looks like a burning city.” 

“ It is a fire, of course, and no small one, either ; but where, 
I can’t exactly make out,” slowly responded the hunter, intently 
fixing his keen eyes on the magnificent spectacle which had 
thus unexpectedly burst on their view in the distance. “ Let 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


73 


me see,” he continued, running his eye along the border of the 
lake in search of his old landmarks : “ there is the tall stub 
that stands half a mile down on the west bank of the river, and 
is now just visible in the edge of the smoke; but where is the 
king pine, that stands nearly against it, over in your slash ? 
^ oung man,” he added, with a startled air, “ was your father 
calculating to burn that slash to-day?” 

“ No, unless it looked likely to rain.” 

“ Well it does look likely to rain, in the shape of a shower 
gathering yonder, which has already given out one or twc 
grumbles of distant thunder, if my ears served me as well as 
usual.” 

“ Yes ; but such a smoke and fire can’t come from our slash 
It must be a larger and more distant one.” 

“ So I tliought at first ; but I begin to think different. Do 
you see tliat perpendicular, broken line of light, occasionally 
flashing out from the smoke, and extending upward to a height 
that no ground fire ever reached ? That is your king pine in 
a blaze from bottom to top. Hark ! why, I can hear it roaring 
clear here, like a distant hurricane. It must be a prodigious 
hot fire to make all that show and noise.” 

“ Can it endanger our buildings ? ” asked Claud, in alarm. 

“ I am afraid so,” replied the other, with a dubious shaKe of 
the head. “ But hark again I ’tis your father’s horn blowing 
for help.” 

“ Let us row, then, as for our lives ! ” cried the now thor- 
oughly aroused and agitated young man. “If any thing hap- 
pens before I get there, I shall never forgive myself for my 
prolonged absence, to tJie last day of my life. You will join 
me in going there, will you not ? ” 

“ Yes, and outstrip you by half a mile. But that won’t be 
the best way. Throw your anchor into the stern of my canoe, 
and fall in behind. There ; now keep the anchor-line slack 
between us, if you can,” rapidly said the hunter, bending hi* 


74 


GAUT gukley; or. 


sinewy form to the work, with a power that sent his canoe half 
out of the water at every stroke of his swiftly-falling oar. 

Leaving them to bound over the billowy waters of the lake 
towards their destination, with all the speed which strong arms 
and nerves made tense with excitement could impai-t, let us 
anticipate their arrival, to note what befell the objects of their 
anxieties, whom we so abruptly left in their perils from the 
fire, to bring up the other incidents of the day having an equal 
bearing on the story, with which we have thus far occupied 
the present somewhat extended chapter. 

The immediate danger to their house from the fire, with 
which we left the alarmed Elwood and his wife contending, was, 
indeed, easily overcome by dashing pails of water over the 
roof. But scarcely had they achieved this temporary triumjih 
in one place over an element proverbially terrible when it 
becomes master, before it was seen kindling into flickering 
blazes on the roof of the barn and the locks of hay protruding 
from its windows and the crevices between the logs of which 
it was built. Here, also, they soon succeeded in extinguishing 
the fire in the same manner. They were not, however, allowed 
a moment’s respite from either their labors or alarms. The 
fences were by this time on fire in numerous places ; and the 
chi[)S and wood in the door-yard were seen to be igniting Irom 
the sparks and cinders which, every instant, fell thicker and 
hotter around their seemingly devoted domicil. The fences, 
after a few vain attempts to save them, were given up a prey 
to the devouring element, and the whole exertions of the 
panting and exhausted sufferers were turned to saving their 
buildings ; and even at that they had no time to spare ; for, so 
hot had the air become from the burning slash, which, 
through its whole length, was now glowing with the red heat 
of a furnace, that every vestige of moisture had soon disap- 
peared from the drenched roofs, and ihey wei’e again on fire. 

“ Is there no way of raising help ? ” exclaimed Mrs. Elwood, 


THE TRArPERS OF MBAGOQ. *Jb 

in her extremity, as she witnessed these increasing manifesta- 
tions of danger. 

“ I never thought of that ” said Elwood. “ Hand me the 
dinner-horn. If there are any within hearing, they will under- 
stand, with the appearance of tliis fire, tliat we are calling for 
assistance.” 

With a few sharp, loud blasts, Elwood threw aside the horn, 
and again flew to the work of extinguishing the fires where 
they became most threatening. And thus, for nearly another 
hour, the distressed settler and his heroic wife, suffering deeply 
from heat and exhaustion, toiled on, without gaining the least 
on the fearful enemy by which they were so closely encom- 
passed. And they were on the point of giving up in despair, 
when the welcome shout of “ Help at hand ! ” from the ringing 
voice of the hunter, then just entering the opening, revived 
hope in their sinking hearts. The next moment that help was 
on the spot ; but it was unnecessary. A mightier Hand w'as 
about to interpose. From the bold, black van of the hurrying 
and deeply-charged rack of cloud, that had now unheeded 
gained the zenith, a stream of fire, before which all other fires 
paled into nothing, at that instant descended on the top of 
the burning pine, and, rending it from top to bottom by the 
single explosion, sent its wide-flying fragments in blazing circles 
to the ground. A sharp, rattling sound, teminating in a can- 
non-like report, followed, shaking the rent arid crashing heavens 
above, and the bounding earth beneath, in the awful concussion. 
Before the stunned and blinded settlers had recovered from the 
shock, or the deep roll of the echoing thunder had died away 
among the distant mountains, another and more welcome roar 
saluted their ears. It was that of the rapidly-approaching rain 
striking the foliage of the neighboring forest ; and, scarcely had 
they time to gain the cover of the house, be.fire the deluging 
torrents poured over it with a force and fury beneath which 
the quelled fires speedily sunk, hissing, into darkness and death. 


CHAPTER VII. 


"Wo is the youth whom Fancy gains, 

Winning from Reason’s hands the reins.” 

The morning of tlie next day, serene and beautiful as a 
bride decked in her fresh robes and redolent in her forest per- 
fumery, came smiling over the wilderness hills of the east, to 
greet our little pioneer family on their deliverance from the 
perils of yesterday. The war of the elements, that had raged 
so fearfully round their seemingly devoted domicile, had all 
passed away ; and, after sleeping off the fatigue and excite- 
ment of the previous day, they rose to look around them, to 
find themselves safe, and call themselves satisfied. Their build- 
ings had been, after all, but very slightly injured, and their 
green crops but little damaged; their fences, indeed, were 
mostly consumed ; but these could be replaced from the timber 
of the burnt slash, with little more labor than would be required 
to pile up and burn that timber where it lay. But, whatever 
such additional labor might be, it was more than compensated 
by the very intensity of the fire which caused it, and which, at 
the same time, had so utterly consumed all the underbrush, 
limbs of the trees, and even the smaller trees themselves, that 
weeks less than with ordinary burns would be required in the 
clearing. Elwood, therefore, came in from his morning survey 
happily disappointed in the supposed extent of his losses ; and, 
joining his wife and son in the house, whom he found busily 
engaged in cutting up, mealing, and placing in the hissing pan 
over the fire the broad, red, and rich-looking pieces of trout, 
the fruit of yesterday’s excursion on the lake, he told them, 
with a gratified air, the result of his observation, which, on a 

( 76 ) 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


77 


merchant-like calculation of loss and gain from the conflagraA 
tion, he made out to show even a balance in his favor. Mrs. 
Elwood rejoiced with her husband on the happy turn of affairs, 
and wondered why her son did not manifest the same flow of 
spirits. But the latter, for some reason or other, appeared un- 
usually abstracted during the whole morning ; and, when asked 
to relate the particulars of his perilous adventure with the 
moose, which he had the evening before but briefly mentioned, 
he exhibited a hesitation, and a sort of shying of the question, 
in that part of the adventure relating to the rescued girl, 
which did not escape the quick eye of the mother. It was evi- 
dent to her that something was kept back. But what that 
something was she was wholly unable to conjecture. It was so 
unusual for her son to show any lack of frankness that the 
circumstance disturbed her, and, though she knew not exactly 
why, sent a boding chill over her heart, which caused her also 
to become thoughtful and silent. And Mr. Elwood, who pos- 
sessed none of those mental sympathies which, in some, will 
often be found unconsciously mingling with the thoughts of 
others, so far, at least, as to apprise them of the general char- 
acter and drift of those thought^, now, in his turn, wondered 
why his wife, as well as son, should all at once become so unsocial 
and taciturn. 

It will doubtless be generally said that this mental sympathy, 
or the intuitive perception of the main drift of what is passing 
in the minds of others, has an existence only in the fancy of 
fictionists. We, however, after years of close observation, have 
wholly ceased to doubt its reality. Scores of times have we 
been affected by thoughts and intentions which we knew must 
have a source other than in our own mind. Scores of times 
have we, in this manner, been put on our guard against the 
selfish designs which others were harboring to our disadvantage, 
of which no tongue had informed us, and of which, afterwards, 
we had tangible proof. And, on careful inquiry among per- 
sons of thought and sensibility, we have become convinced that 


78 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


the principle holds good to a very considerable extent among 
others ; and that attention to the subject is only wanting to 
make it a generally received opinion. It was this principle 
that now affected Mrs. Elwood : not that she had the most dis- 
tant idea that her son harbored aught of wrong intention to- 
ward any of his family, but she felt that his mind was somehow 
becoming subservient to schemes which existed somewhere in 
the minds of others, which concerned her or her family. But 
she felt rather than thought this ; and, knowing she could give 
no reason for her singular impression, prudently kept it to her- 
self. 

“ Good-morning, good-morning, gentlefolks,” rang out the 
cheery voice of the hunter, who now looked in at the door as 
the Elwoods were rising from their breakfast. “ Things look 
a little altered round here, this morning. I should hardly have 
known the place without the king pine, which, in its prime, was 
a tree of a thousand.” 

“ That tree was- an old acquaintance of yours, I suppose,” 
remarked Elwood. 

“ Yes, of twenty years’ standing ; and I shall miss and mourn 
it as an old friend. But it died like a monarch, yielding only 
under the direct blow of the Almighty.” 

“Then you consider the lightning more especially the instru- 
ment of Heaven than the wind, fire, and other elements, do 
you?” 

“ To be sure T do. Wind, we know what it is ; fire we know ; 
water we also know ; because we can see them, touch them, 
measure them. But who can see a piece of lightning wIhmi not 
in motion ? who can find the least fragrnent of it after it has 
struck ? It rends a tree, makes a smooth hole through a 
board, and ploughs up the ground. But go to the tree, and 
(here is nothing thei*e ; look under the board, it is the same ; 
and dig along the furrow it has ploughed to where it stopjx-d, 
and it is not there, as it would be if it was any material thing, 
like a bullet, an axe, knife, or other instrument that produces 


THE TRAPPERS OF TJMBAOOO. 


gach effects, in all other instances. No, ’tis not matter ; it is 
the power of God ; and your philosophers, who pretend to 
explain it, don’t know wliat they are talking about. But enough 
of that. I came here to rally you out to go up the river with 
the rest of us, for the moose. You will both go, won’t you?” 

“ Claud will, doubtless,” replied Mr. Elwood. “ Indeed, I 
have half a mind to go myself.” 

“ Perhaps Claud, having had a fatiguing excursion yester 
day, will stay at home, and let his father go, to-day,” sug- 
gested Mrs. Elwood. 

“ It was not at all fatiguing, mother,” responded Claud. 

“ The wind blows up the river to-day, ma’am,” said the hunt- 
er, with a knowing look. 

Little more was said ; but the result was that Claud and the 
hunter now soon went off together on the proposed excursion. 
Oh reacliing the mouth of the Magalloway, they found four 
others waiting for them, with their canoes, when tlie whole 
party commenced their little voyage up the river. After leis- 
urely rowing against the here slow and gentle current of the 
stream for an hour or two, they reached their destination, and 
hauled up at a point most convenient for gaining the spot where 
the slaughtered moose had been left the evening before. Led 
on by the hunter, all now started for the place just named, 
except Claud, who, under pretence of taking a short gunning 
bout in the woods, and of soon coming round to join his com- 
panions, proceeded, as soon as the latter were out of sight, with 
slow and hesitating steps, up the river, for the opening and 
supposed residence of the fair unknown who had so long been 
the object of his wondering fancies, and who had, notwithstand- 
ing the exciting scenes he had witnessed at home, been the 
especial subject of his dreams after he retired to rest the night 
before. But what a strange, wayward, timid, doubting, and 
inconsistent thing is the tender passion in its incipient stages, 
especially when that passion has principally been wrought up 
by the imagination ! He soon came to the clearing of which 


80 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

he was in quest, and obtained a clear view of the, to him, charmed 
cottage. But, instead of entering the opening directly, he went 
nearly round it, frequently pausing and advancing nearly to 
the edge of the woods ; but as often retreating, being unable 
quite to make up his mind to show himself at all to the inmates 
of the cottage. Once he gave it up entirely, and started off 
for his companions. But, after he had proceeded a dozen rods, 
he came again to a stand, hesitated a while, and, as if ashamed 
of his irresolution, wheeled rapidly about, proceeded, with a 
quick, firm step, to the border of the woods, struck directly for 
the house, and, with assumed unconcern, marched up to the 
door, — where he was met, not by the young lady he expected 
first to see, but by her father. But who was that father ? To 
his utter surprise, it was Ids father’s old tempter and ruiner, 
the dark and inscrutable Gaut Gurley ! 

With a manner, for him, unusually gracious, Gurley extended 
his hand to Claud; ushered him into the house; formally intro- 
duced him to his wife, an ordinary, abject-looking woman ; and 
then to his daughter, the fair, dark-eyed, tall, shapely, and 
every way magnificent Avis Gurley, the girl who had so long, 
but unwittingly, been the object of the young man’s dreamy 
fancies. 

“ I have but very lately discovered,” remarked Gurley, who 
seemed to feel himself called on to lead off in the conversation, 
after the usual commonplace remarks had been exchanged, 
“ I have but lately discovered that I had, by a singular coin- 
cidence, again cast my lot in the same settlement with your 
family. Having made up my mind, a few months ago, to try 
a new country, and coming across the owner of this place, who 
was on a journey in New Hampshire, and who offered to sell 
and move off at once, 1 came on with him, struck a bargain, 
returned for my family, and brought them here about a fortnight 
ago. But, having been absent most of the time since, I didn’t 
mistrust who my neighbors were.” 

“And you probably perceived, sir,” said Avis, turning to 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOO. 


81 


Cland, with a smile, “you probably perceived, in your yester 
day’s adventure up here in, tlie woods, that I have been in as 
bad a predicament as my father.” 

“ How is that. Avis?” asked Gurley. 

“ Why, father,” responded the other, “ Mr. Elwood will 
readily suppose that I should not Iiave been straying into the 
wood for flowers and berries, had I known we had any such 
neighbors as the one from whose pursuit he so kindly rescued 
me last evening.” 

“ I was as much surprised at the ferocity of the animal as you 
were, I presume,” said Claud, in reply, “ And I was far more 
indebted to the hunter, Phillips, for my own rescue, than you 
were to me for yours. I merely turned the furious brute aside. 
It was he who, coming up in the nick of time, brought him 
dead to the earth.” 

“ I supposed there were two of you,” remarked Gurley. “ 1 
was half a mile up the river, yet I heard the firing plain enough ; 
and, returning soon after, and hearing my daughter’s story, I 
went to the place ; but, by that time, you had dressed the ani- 
mal and were gone. By the voices I heard in the woods, a 
short time ago, I concluded you came up, with others, for the 
beef.” 

“ We did. You here should certainly be entitled to a liberal 
share. Will you not go up there?” 

“ Yes ; I was thinking about it before you came in. I will 
go ; but, as I wish to go a short distance into the woods, partly in 
another direction, I will now walk on and come round to the 
spot ; and, if 1 don’t meet you there, you may just tell your 
father how surprised I have been to find myself again in the 
same neighborhood with himself.” 

“ Umph ! ” half audibly exclaimed the hitherto mute wife, 
with a look that seemed to say, “ What a bouncer he is telling 
now!” and she was evidently about to say something, comport- 
ing with the significant exclamation, but a glance from her hus- 
band, as he passed out of the door, quelled her into silence. 


82 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


On the departure of Gurley, his wife rose and left the rooM $ 
when Claud, unexpectedly finding himself alone with his fair 
companion, instead of entering into the easy conversation with 
her which the dictates of common gallantry would seem to re- 
quire, soon began to manifest signs of constraint and embarrass- 
ment, which did not escape the eye of the young lady, and 
which caused her no little surprise and perplexity. She knew 
nothing of what had been passing in his mind, nor once dreamed 
of the circumstance which had first impressed her image there. 
She had, indeed, known nothing of the Elwoods, except what 
she had heard her father say of them as a family, with whose 
head he had in some way been formerly connected in business. 
Had she been asked, she would doubtless have recalled the 
fact that her father had, the year before, employed an artist to 
paint a miniature likeness of her, which he subsequently pre- 
tended to have sent to a relative of his residing in Quebec, and 
she never entertained the least suspicion that it was not thus 
properly disposed of. She had never seen Claud till yesterday, 
when he so opportunely appeared for her rescue; and, even 
then, she had no idea who it was to whom she had thus become 
indebted. She, however, had been much prepossessed with 
his appearance and manly bearing, and felt a lively sense of 
gratitude for the voluntary service ; and when, by the introduc- 
tion of her father, she became apprised of the character of her 
deliverer, she felt doubly gratified that he had turned out to be 
one who, she believed, would not take any mean advantage of 
the obligation. For these reasons, she could not understand 
why he should appear so reserved, unless it was that she had 
failed to interest him ; and, finally concluding that this must be 
the case, she did that which, with her maidenly pride and high 
spirit, she would otherwise have scorned to do, she exerted her- 
self to the utmost to interest and please him; and, when he rose 
to return to his companions, she followed him into the yard, 
and smilingly said : 


THE TRAPPERS OF tJMBAGOG. 83 

‘‘You are fond of gunning excursions, are you not, Mr. 
El wood ?” 

“Yes, O yes, quite so,” replied Claud, with awkward hesi- 
tation. 

“ And would not an occasional excursion in this direction be 
as pleasant as any other?” she asked, with playful significance. 

But, instead of replying in the same spirit, the bewildered 
young man twrned, and sent a gaze into the depths of her lus- 
trous dark eyes, so serious and intense that it brought a blush 
to her cheek; when, stammering out his intention of often tak- 
ing her house in his way in future, he hurriedly bade her good- 
by, and departed, leaving her more perplexed than ever. 

As for Claud, it would be difficult to describe his sensations 
on leaving the house, or make any thing definite out of the 
operations of his mind. Both heart and brain were working 
tumultuously, but not in unison. The train which his imagina- 
tion had been laying was on the point of being kindled into a 
blaze by the reality. He knew it; he felt it; but he knew 
also that it was the part of wisdom to smother the flame while 
it yet might be controlled. The unexpected and startling dis- 
cov^ery which he had just made, that the girl who had so 
wrought upon his fancy, both when seen in the picture and met 
in the original, was the daughter of Gaut Gurley, raised difficul- 
ties and dangers in the path he found himself entering, which 
his judgment told him could only be avoided by his imme- 
diate desistance. For he was well aware how deeply rooted 
w'as his mother’s aversion to this man, and how fatal had 
been his influence over his father, who had but a few months 
before escaped from his toils, and then only, perhaps, because 
there was no more to be gained by keeping him in them any 
longer. A connection with the daughter, therefore, however op- 
posite in character from her father, would not only greatly mar 
his mother’s happiness, but in all probability lead to a renewal of 
the intimacy between his father and Gurley; an event which he 
himself felt was to be deprecated. But the Demon of Sophistry, 


84 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


who first taught self-deceiving man how to make “ the wish 
father to the thought,” here interposing, wliispered to the in- 
cipient lover that his father had reformed, and why not then 
Gaut Gurley ? This reasoning, however, could not be made to 
satisfy liis judgment ; and again commenced the struggle be- 
tween head and heart, one pulling one way and the other in 
another way, — too often an unequal struggle, too often like one 
of those contests between man and wife, where reason suc- 
cumbs and will comes off triumphant. 

Such were the fluctuating thoughts and purposes which 
occupied the agitated bosom of Claud Elwood, in his solitary 
walk to the place where the boats had been left, and where the 
subject was now driven from his mind, for a while, by the ap- 
pearance of his companions and the merry jokes of the hunter 
They had cut up the moose meat, -which they had found in 
good condition, and brought all they deemed worth saving down 
to the landing. And, being now ready to embark, they appor- 
tioned the meat among the different canoes, and rowed with the 
now favoring current rapidly down the river together till they 
reached its mouth, %vhen they separated, and bore their allotted 
portions of the moose to their respective homes. 

P^or the two succeeding days and nights the hapless Claud 
was the p^py of conflicting emotions, — the more oppressive 
because he carefully kept them pent up in his own bosom. He 
dared not make the least allusion before his parents to the lady 
whom they knew he had rescued, or his visit to her home, for 
he could not do so withou*^^ revealing the fact that the drea(k*d 
Gaut Gurley, with his family, had found his way into the 
vicinity ; while, if he did disclose this fact, he felt that he could 
not hold up his head before them till he had conquered his 
feelings towards the daughter. And sometimes he thought he 
had conquered them, and resolved that he would never see her 
again. But, brooding over his feelings in the solitudes of the 
woods, he only cherished and fanned the flame he was thinking 
to extinguish; and he again relapsed, — again paused, — agahi 


* THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


85 


“ resolved, re-resolved, and did the same ; ” for, on the third 
day, under the excuse of taking another excursion on the lake, 
he was drawn, as surely as the vibrating needle to the pole, to 
the beautiful load-star of the Magalloway. 

Suspecting the state of young El wood’s feelings towards her, 
and fearing that she might have been too forward in her ad- 
vances at their last interview. Avis Gurley, this time, received 
him with a dignity and maidenly reserve, which, when con- 
trasted with her former sociability and cordiality of manner, 
seemed to him like studied coolness. This soon led him, in 
turn, to sue for favor. And so earnestly did he pursue his 
object, that, before he was aware of what he was saying, he had 
revealed tlie secret of his heart. She received his remarks in 
respectful silence, but gave no indication by which he could 
judge whether the inadvertent disclosure was pleasing or other- 
wise, except what might be gathered from her increased cor- 
diality on other subjects, to which she now adroitly turned the 
conversation. This was just enough to encourage him, and at 
tlie same time leave him in that degree of doubt and suspense 
wliich generally operate as the greatest incentive to persevere 
in the pursuit of an object. It proved so in his case ; and, to 
tliis natural incentive to persevere, was now added anotiier, 
that of respect for her character, — a respect which every 
hour’s conversation with her enhanced, and which he might 
aocord to her with entire justice. Gaut Gurley, like many 
other bad men, was proud of having a good daughter, lie 
early perceived that she inherited all that was comely and good 
in him, physically and morally, without any of Ids defects or 
faults of character. And, desirous so to rear her as to make 
the most of lier natural endowments, and so, at the same time, 
that her character should not be marred by his example, he had 
been at considerable expense with her education, and had even 
deported himself with much circumspection in her presence. 
This, as will be readily inferred of one of his designing char- 
acter, he did from a mLxed motive : partly from parental pride 


86 


GAUT GURLEY* 


and affection, and partly to make her, through some advantage- 
ous marriage, subservient to his own personal interests. 

In this state of affairs between Claud and Avis, closed this, 
thei;* second interview. Another, and another, and yet anotlier, 
suece ‘ded at brief intervals. And so rapid is the course of 
love, when springing up in solitudes like these, where nothing 
occurs to divert the gathering current, but every thing conspires 
to increase it, — where to our young devotees all around them 
seemed to reflect their own feelings, — where the ieolian music 
of the whispering pines that embowered their solitary walks 
seemed but to give voice to the melody that filled their own 
hearts, — where to them the birds all sang of love, — where 
love smiled upon them in the pensive beams of the moon, 
glistened in the stars, and was stamped on all the expanse of 
blue sky above, and on all the forms of beauty on the green 
earth beneath, — so rapid, we repeat, is the course of love, thus 
born and thus fostered, that a fortnight had scarcely elapsed 
before they had both yielded up heart and soul to the dominion 
of the well-named blind god, and uttered their mutual vows of 
love and constancy. 

This was the sunshine of their love ; but the storms were 
already gathering in the distance. 


CHAPTER Vm 


The sicjh that lifts her hreastie comes, 

Like sad winds frae the sea, 

Wi’ sic a dreary souprli, as wad 
Bring tears into yer e'e/* 

WiTEN Claud Elwood reached home, on the eventful visit (o 
the Magalloway which resulted in the exchange of vows be- 
tween him and Avis Gurley, as intimated at the close of the 
last chapter, he at once suspected, from the sad and troubled 
looks of his mother and the disturbed manner of his father, 
that the secret of his late visits abroad, as well as of the un- 
expected advent of the family visited, had, in some way, become 
known to them in his absence. A feeling of mingled delicacy 
and self-condemnation, however, prevented him from making 
any inquiries ; and, with a commonplace remark, whicli was 
received in silence, he took a seat, and, with much inward 
trembling, awaited the expected denouement. But it did not 
come so soon nor in so harsh terms as he expected. There are 
occasions when we feel so deeply that we are reluctant to begin 
the task of unburdening our minds ; and, when we do speak out, 
it is oftener in sorrow than in anger. It was so in the present 
instance. Mr. Klwood had that day been abroad among the 
settlers, and, for the first time, learned not only that Gant 
Gurley had moved with his family into the settlement, but that 
Claud was courting his daughter, and a match already settled 
on between them. On his return home, Klwood felt almost as 
much reluctance in making known his discoveries to Ins wife as 
Claud had before him; for he well knew how deeply they 
would disquiet her. But, soon concluding there would be n« 

( 87 ) 


68 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


wisiJom in attempting concealment, he told her what he had 
heard. As he had anticipated, the news fell like a sudden 
thunderclap on her heart. She had experienced, indeed, 
many strange misgivings respecting her son’s late mysterious 
absences ; but she was not prepared for such a double portion 
of ill-omened news as she deemed this to be, and it struck her 
mute with dismay, for it at once brought a cloud o\er the 
future, whicli to her eye was dark with portents. Elwood him- 
self was also obviously considerably disquieted by the news, 
showing no little uneasiness and excitement, — an excitement, 
perhaps, resembling that which is said to be manifested by a 
bird in the presence of the devouring reptile. He doubtless 
would gladly have been relieved from any further connection 
with Gaut. He doubtless would gladly have avoided even the 
slightest renewal of their former acquaintance. But, for reasons 
which he had never disclosed, he felt confident he should not 
long be su/fered to enjoy any such exemption. And feeling, 
for the same reasons, how weak he should be in the hands of 
that man, he was troubled, far more troubled than he would 
have been willing to own, at the discoveries of the day, even if 
that part of it relating to the intimacy of his son and Gaut’s 
daughter should prove, as he believed, a mere conjecture. 

It was at this juncture, and before a word of cpmment had 
been offered either by Mrs. Elwood or her husband on the 
news he had related, that Claud arrived and entered the room. 

“ Well, God’s will be done!” sadly uttered Mrs. Elwood, 
at length breaking the embarrassing silence, but without raising 
her eyes from her work, which lay neglected in her lap. 

“ What does mother mean ? ” doubtfully asked Claud, turn- 
ing to his father. 

“ I have been telling her some unexpected news, which 
greatly disturbs her mind, — more than is necessary, perhaps,** 
replied the other, with [)Oorly assumed indifference. 

“ What news ? ” rejoined the son, having made up his mind 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


89 


that, if his own secret was involved, as he supposed, the long 
dreaded eclaircissement might as well come now as ever. 

“ Why, that Gaut Gurley has moved with his family into 
the settlement. And that is not all ; but the rest of it, which 
relates -to a lately-formed intimacy between you and Gaut’s 
daughter, I presume is mere guess-work.” 

Mrs. Elwood turned a searching glance to the face of her 
son, and waited to hear his reply to the last remarks, but he 
was silent ; and the last gleam of hope, which had for the 
moment lighted up the mother’s countenance, faded like a 
moon-beam on the edge of an eclipsing cloud ; and, after a long 
pause and silence which no one interrupted, she slowly and 
sadly said ; 

“ When I consented to leave the comforts and social blessings 
to which I had been accustomed, and come into this lone 
wilderness, with its well-known hardships and privations, my 
great and indeed only motive was, to see my family placed 
beyond the temptations of the city, and especially beyond the 
fatal, and to me always mysterious, influence of that wicked 
and dangerous man, Gaut Gurley. And with this object I 
came cheerfully, gladly. And when I reached this place, 
fondly hoping and believing we had escaped that man, and 
were forever secure from his wiles, I became happy, — happier 
than since I left my native hills in New-IIampshire. It soon 
became to me, lone and dreary as it might appear to others,— 
it soon became to me, in my fancied security from the evils we 
had fled, a second Paradise. But to me it is a Paradise no 
longer; the Serpent has found his way into our Eden; and, 
not content with having beguiled and ruined one, must now 
have the other so entangled in the toils that both will be kept 
in his power.” 

“ You are going a great ways to borrow trouble, it appears t,) 
me, Alice,” remarked Elwood, after a pause. 

“ It certainly seems so to me, also, mother,” said Claud. “You 
cannot knbw but Gurley comes here with as honest purposes 


00 


GAUT GURLEY J OR, 


as father. But, were it otherwise, the daughter should not b« 
held responsible for the faults of the father, nor, without good 
reason, be accused of favoring any sinister designs be may 
entertain.” 

“ Claud takes a just view of the case, on both points, T pre- 
sume,” rejoined Mr. Elwood. “As to Gurley, I know not 
how, or why, he came here ; nor do I wish or expect to have 
any thing to do with him. And as to Claud, I trust he knows 
enough to take care of himself.” 

“You have both evaded the spirit of my remarks,” responded 
Mrs. Elwood. “When I speak of Gaut Gurley’s motives 
and designs, you must know I judge from his past conduct. 
Have either of you as safe grounds of judging him? And 
when I allude to his daughter, I do so with no thought of hold- 
ing her amenable for the faults of her father, or even of as- 
suming the ground that slie has inherited any of his objection- 
able traits of cliaracter. I intend nothing of the kind, for I 
know nothing of her. But I do say, that, whenever slve mar- 
ries, she becomes the connecting link between her husband and 
her fatlier, the chain extending both ways, so as to bind iheir 
respective families together, and give one the power and mearw 
of evil which could in no other way be obtained. ^ In view of 
all these circumstances, then, I feel that a calamity is in store 
for us. God grant that my fears and forebodings may prove 
groundless.” 

The husband and son were saved the difficult and embar- 
rassing task of replying, by the arrival of Philips, who, in 
his free and easy maimer, entired and took a seat with the 
family. 

“ I came, gentlefolks,” said the hunter, after a few common- 
place remarks liad been exchanged, — “1 came to see if you 
know what a ‘ bee ’ means ? ” 

“A bee? what, honey-bees?” asked Mr. Elwood, in sur- 
prise at the oddness of the question. 

“hJo, not a honey-bee, exactly, or a humble-bee, but a sort of 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO* 


91 


work -meeting of men or women, to help a neighbor to husk his 
corn, for instance, build him a log house, or do off some other job 
for him in a day, which alone would take him perhaps weeks. 
These turn-outs we new settlers call ‘bees.’ Nothing is more 
common than for a man to get up a bee to knock off at once a 
pressing job he wants done. And, when a new-comer appears 
to be delicate about moving in the matter, the neighbors some- 
times volunteer, and get up a bee for him, among themselves.” 

“I may have heard of the custom ; but why do you say you 
came to ask me if I know any thing about it ? ” 

“ Well, I kinder thought I would. You have a pretty stiff- 
looicing burnt piece here to be logged off soon, have you not ? ” 

“ Why, yes.” 

“ And it would be a hard and heavy month’s job for you 
and the young man to do it, would it not ? ” 

“ The best part of a month, perhaps ; but I was intending to 
go at it in season, that we might get it all cleared and sown 
by the middle of September; which must be done, if I join you 
and the rest of the usual company in the fall trapping and 
hunting expedition.” 

“ Of course you will join us. It is our main and almost only 
chance here of getting any money.” 

“ So I have always understood, and therefore made up my 
mind to go into it, if I can get ready. I have been down the 
river to-day and engaged my seed wheat. To-morrow I 
thought of going abroad again, to try to engage some help for 
clearing the piece.” 

“ Well, you need not go a rod for that purpose.” 

“Why not?” 

“ Because we have got up a bee for you in the settlement, 
large enough, we think, to log off your whole piece in a day.” 

“Indeed! Who has been so kind as to start such a pro- 
ject ? ” 

“ Several of us : Codman, that you may have seen, or at 
least heard \of, as the best trapner in the settlement, took upon 


92 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


himself to enlist those round the southerly end of the laTce, 
where he lives ; and I have arranged matters a little in this 
section and on the river below. But, in justice, I should name, 
as the man who has taken the most interest in the movement, 
the new settler wlio has this summer come into the parts, and 
made his pitch over on the INIagalloway. His name is Gurley.” 

A dead silence of several minutes ensued, during which Mrs. 
Elwood looked sadly and meaningly from the husband to the 
son, both of whose countenances seemed to fall and shrink be- 
fore her significant glances. 

“ Well,” at length resumed the hunter, perceiving no re- 
sponse was to be made to his last remark, “seeing we had 
got all arranged and ready, I came to notify you, so that you 
should not be taken by surprise. We propose to be on the 
ground, men and oxen, early day after to-morrow. There will 
be fifteen or twenty of us, [)erhaps, with five or six yoke of 
oxen, and like enough a stiff horse or two.” 

“ But how can I provision such a company on so short 
notice ? ” 

“ No trouble about that. You jiave salt pork?” 

“ A good supply.” 

Corn meal ? ” 

“ Yes ; and wheat flour, with fine new potatoes.” 

“ All right. I will take care of the rest. I will take the young 
man, here, into my largest canoe, to-morrow morning, if he be so 
disposed, and we will go up the lake, perhaps into the upper lake? 
and it will be a strange case if we don’t return at night with fish, 
and I think flesh, enough to victual the company ; and, in the 
mean time, my women will come up and be on hand to-morrow 
and next day, to help Mrs. Elwood do the baking and cooking.’ 

The friendly movement of the neighbors, thus announced, 
was not, of course, to be opposed or questioned by those for 
whose benefit it was intended, any further than Mr. Elwood 
had done in relation to his ability to entertain the company so 
well as their kindness deserved. Mr. Elwood and his son, 


THE TRAPPERS OF ITMBAGOG. 


93 


indeed, who had been dreading the hard job of clearing off 
their land, were greatly gratified at the unexpected kindness. 
And even Mrs. Klwood. pained and annoyed as she was by 
the part taken by Gant Gurley, whose only motive she believed 
was to gain some advantage for meditated evil, entered cheer- 
fully into the affair, and joined her husband in handsome ex- 
pressions of acknowledgment to the hunter, and assurances of 
doing their best to provide properly for the company. The 
matter was therefore considered as settled; and the hunter 
de|)arted, to call, as he had proposed, early the next morning 
for Claud, for an excursion up the lake, to procure fresh provis- 
sions for the coming occasion. 

The family were early astir the next morning, intent on their 
respective duties in preparation for the appointed logging bee. 
Tlie}^ had scarcely dispatched their breakfast, before the hunter, 
as he had pro«nised, called for Claud ; when the two departed 
together, with their guns and fishing gear, for the lake, whither 
we propose to accompany them. 

“ Well, now, let us settle the order of the day,” said Phillips, 
after they had reached the landing and deposited their luggage 
in the canoe selected for the purpose. 

“ I am a companion of tJie voyage, to-day, and, as you know, 
but a learner in these sports,” responded Claud. “ You have 
but to name your plan.” 

K “ Well, my plan is this : to steer across and get up the lake 
to the inlet and rapids which connect this to the next upper 
lake, called by the Indians the Molechunk-a-munk ; up these 
rapids into that lake, where we will take a row of a few hours, 
and home again by nightfall. In these rapids, going or return- 
ing, we may safely count, at this season, on a plenty of trout; 
and, on the borders of the lake beyond, 1 know of several 
favorite haunts of the deer, one of which I propose to take into 
the canoe as ballast to steady it for running the rapids, on our 
way back.” 

“ What is the whole distance ? ” 


94 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


“ Four or five miles of this lake, as many of the river oi 
rapids, and as far into the upper lake as we please.” 

“ You are laying out largely for one day, are you not?'' 

‘‘ No, ’tis nothing. You see, I have brought round for our 
use my best birch bark canoe. I have rowed her fifty miles a 
day round the lakes many a time. We sludl bound over the 
lake in almost no time, and the rapids, which are the only draw- 
back, can soon be surmounted, by oar or setting-[)ole, or, what 
may be chea[)est, carrying the canoe round those most difficult 
of passage. The boat does not weigh an hundred. I could 
travel with it a mile on my head, as fast as you would wish to 
walk without a pound of luggage. So, in with you, and I’ll 
show you how it is done.” 

Accordingly they launched forth in their primitive craft, 
which, as before intimated, was the once noted birch bark canoe 
built by the hunter agreeably to the exact rules of Indian art. 
Few, who have never seen and observed the process of con- 
structing this canoe, which, for thousands of years before the 
advent of the white man, was the only craft used by the abo- 
rigines in navigating the interior waters, have any idea how, 
from such seemingly fragile materials, and with no other tools 
than a liatcltet, knife, and perhaps a bone needle, the Indian 
can construct a canoe so extremely light and at the same time 
so tough and durable. In building his canoe, which is one of 
the greatest efforts of his mechanical skill, the Indian goes to 
work systematically. He first peels his bark from a middle- 
sized birch tr<'e, and cuts it in strips five or six inches wide, 
and twelve, fifteen, or twenty feet long, according to the length 
and size of the designed canoe. He then dries them thoroughly 
in the sun, after which he nicely scrapes and smooths off the 
outside. He next proceeds to soak these strips, which are thus 
made to go through a sort of tanning proceSvS, to render them 
tough and pliable, as well as to obviate their liability to crack 
by exposure to the sun. After the materials are thus prepared, 
he smooths off a level piece of ground, and drives around the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


95 


outside a line of strong stakes, so that the space within shall 
describe the exact form of the boat in conTemj)lation. Inside 
of these stakes he places and braces up the wet and pliable 
pieces of bark, beginning at the bottom and building up and 
bending into form the sides and ends, till the structure has at- 
tained the required height. In this situation it is left till it is 
again thoroughly dried and all the pieces become fixed in shape. 
A light inside framework is then constructed, resembling the 
skeleton of a fish, and of dimensions to fit the canoe already 
put in form in the manner we have described. The pieces of 
cured material are then numbered and taken down ; when the 
architect, beginning at the bottom, lapping and sewing together 
the different pieces, proceeds patiently in his work, till the 
sides are built, the ends closed nicely up, and each piece lashed 
firmly to the framework, which, though of surprising lightness, 
is made to serve as keel, knees, and ribs' of the boat. Every 
seam and crevice is then filled with melted pitch. The Indian 
then has his canoe fit for use ; and he may well boast of a 
boat, which, for combined strength and lightness, and especially 
for capacity of burden, no art of the shipbuilder has ever been 
able to surpass, and which, if it has not already, might serve 
for a model of the best lifeboat ever constructed, in these days 
of boasted perfection in marine arts and improvements. 

Bounding over the smooth waters like a seabird half on 
wing, our voyagers soon found themselves on the northerly 
side of the lake; when, rounding a point, they began to skirt 
the easterly shore of the bay that makes up to the inlet, at a 
more leisurely pace, for the purpose of being on the lookout 
for deer, which might be standing in the edge of the water 
round the coves, to cool themselves and keep off the flies. Net 
seeing any signs of game, however, they steered out so as to 
clear the various little capes or woody points of land inclosing 
the numerous coves scattered along the indented shore, and 
struck a lii^e for the great inlet at the head of the lake, which 
they now soon reached, and commenced rowing against the 


96 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


at first gentle and then rapid current, which here pours down 
from the upper lakes, through the rocky and picturesque dehlesi 
in the form of a magnificent river, rivalling in its size the 
midway portions of the Connecticut or Hudson. 

“ Now, young man,” said the hunter, laying aside his paddle 
and taking up the strong, elastic setting-f)ole he had provided 
for the occasion, “ now you must look out for your balance. 
The river, to be sure, is quite low, and the current, of course, 
at its fcj-blest point ; but we shall find places enough within 
the next mile where the canoe, to go up at all, must go up like 
the jump of a catamount. So, down in the bottom of the boat, 
on your braced knees, with your haunches on your heels, and 
leave all to me.” 

“ What ! do you expect to force the canoe up rapids like 
these?” asked Claud, in surprise, as he cast his eye over the 
long reach of eddying, tumbling waters, that looked like a les- 
sening sheet of foam as it lay stretched upward in the distant 
perspective. 

“ I expect to try,” coolly replied the hunter ; “ and, if you 
lay asleep in the bottom of the canoe, I should expect to suc- 
ceed. And, as it is, if you can keep cool and obey orders, we 
will see what can be done.” 

Claud implicitly obeyed the directions of the hunter, without 
much faith, however, in the success of his bold attempt. But 
he soon perceived he had underrated the skill and strength of 
arm which had been relied on to accomplish the seemingly 
impossible feat. Standing upright and sligluly bracing in the 
bottom of his canoe, the hunter first marked out with his eye 
his course through a given reach of the rock-broken and foam- 
ing waters above ; then, nicely calculating the resisting force 
of each rapid to be overcome, and the required impetus, and 
the direction to be given to his canoe to effect it, he sharply bid 
Claud be on his guard, and sent the light craft like an arrow 
into the boiling eddies before him. And now, by sudden and 
powerful shoves, he was seen shooting obliquely up one rapid; 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


97 


tacking with the quickness of light, and darting off zigzag 
among the rocks and eddies towards another, which was in turn 
surmounted ; while the boat was forced, surging and bounding 
forward, with increasing impetus, now up and now athwart the 
rushing currents, till he had gained a resting-place in the still 
water of some sheltering boulder in the stream, when he would 
mark off, with a rapid glance, another reach of falls, and shoot 
in among them as before. Thus, with the quick tacks and 
turns and sudden leaps of the ascending salmon, and almost 
with the celerity, he made his way up the long succession of 
rapids, until the last of the series was overcome, and he found 
himself safely emerging into the smooth waters of the beautiful 
lakelet or pond which divides, in the upper portion of its 
course, this remarkable stream. Another row of a mile or so 
now brought the voyagers where the water again took the form 
of a swift river, tumbling and foaming over the rocks, in the 
last series of rapids to be overcome. These also were sur- 
mounted in the same manner and with the same success as the 
former. 

But this part of the voyage was marked with an unexpected 
adventure, and one which seemed destined to lead to the opera- 
tion of new and singular moral agencies, both in the near and 
more distant future, having an important bearing on the fate 
and fortunes of young Elwood. They had reached the last 
and most difficult of all the rapids yet encountered, and were 
resting, preparatory to the anticipated struggle, in a smooth 
piece of water under the lee of a huge rock, on either side of 
which the divided stream rushed in two foam-covered torrents, 
with the force and swiftness of a mill-race ; when they were 
startled by the shrill exclamations of a female voice, in tones 
indicative of surprise and alarm. The sounds, which came 
from some unseen point not far above them in the stream, 
were evidently drawing near at a rapid rate. Presently a 
small Indian canoe, with a single female occupant, whose youth 
and beauty, even in the distance, were apparent, shot swiftly 
7 


98 


GAUT GURLEY ) OR, 


into view, and came tossing and whirling down the stream, un- 
guided, and wholly at the mercy of the crooked and raging 
currents along which it was borne with the speed of the wdnd. 
The imperilled maiden uttered a cry of joy at the appearance 
of our voyagers, and held up the handle of a broken oar, to 
indicate to them at once the cause of her fearful dilemma and 
need of assistance. 

“ I will throw her one of our paddles, and she will best take 
care of herself,” hurriedly exclaimed the hunter, seizing the 
implement, and awaiting her nearest approach to throw it 
within her reach. 

The critical point was the next instant reached, but the 
hunter, in his nervous anxiety and haste, made his throw a little 
too soon and with too much force. The paddle struck directly 
under the prow of the canoe, and shot beyond, far out of 
reach of the expectant maiden’s extended hands. Another 
oar was hurled after her, with no better effect ; when, for the 
first time, a shade of despair passed over her agitated counte- 
nance ; for she saw herself rapidly drifting directly into the jaws 
of a wild and feai-ful labyrinth of breakers not fifty yards below, 
where, in all probability, her fragile canoe would be dashed to 
pieces, and herself thrown against the slippery and jagged 
rock, drawn down, and lost. Claud, who had witnessed, with 
trembling anxiety, the hunter’s vain attempts to place the means 
of self-preservation in the hands of the maiden, and who now 
perceived, in their full light, the perils of the path to which she 
was helplessly hastening, could restrain his generous impulses 
no longer ; and, quickly throwing off his hat and coat, he leaped 
overboard, dashed headlong into the current, and struck boldly 
down it to overtake the receding canoe. 

“ Hold ! madness ! They will both perish together ! 
rapidly exclaimed the hunter, surprised and alarmed at the rash 
attempt of his young companion. “ But I will share in theii 
dangers, — perhaps save them, yet.” 

Accordingly he hastily headed round his canoe, and, haz- 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


99 


ardoiis as he knew must be the experiment, sent it surging 
down the current after his endangered young friends ; for the 
one, as will soon appear, was no less his favorite than the 
other. In the mean time, Claud, in swimming over a sunken 
rock, luckily gained a foothold, which enabled him to rise and 
plunge forward again with redoubled speed ; and, so well-timed 
and powerful were his exertions, that he came within reach of 
the stern of the fugitive canoe just as it was whirling round 
sideways in the reflux of the waves caused by the water dash- 
ing against a high rock standing partly in the current. It was 
a moment of life or death, both to the man and maiden ; for 
the boat was on* the point of going broadside over the first fall 
into the wild and seething waters, seen leaping and roaring in 
whirl})ools and jets of foam among the intricate passes of the 
nigged rocks below. Making sure of his grasp on the end of 
the canoe that had been thus fortunately thrown within his 
reach, the struggling Claud made an effort to draw it from the 
edge of the abyss into which it was about to be precipitated ; 
but, with his most desperate exertions, he was barely enabled 
to keep it in position, while his strength was rapidly giving 
way. The unequal contest was quickly noticed by the hapless 
girl ; and, after watching a moment, with a troubled eye, the 
fruitless efforts and wasting strength of the young man, she 
calmly rose to her feet, exhibiting, as she stood upright in the 
boat, with the spray dashing over her marble forehead and 
long flowing hair, in the faultless symmetry of her person, the 
beautiful cast of her features, and the touching eloquence of 
her speaking countenance, a figure which might well serve as a 
subject for the pencil of the artist. 

“ Let go, brave stranger,” she cried, in clear, silvery tones, 
after throwing a grateful and admiring glance down upon her 
gallant rescuer ; “ let me go, and save yourself. I can die as 
befits a daughter of my people.” 

“ Hold on, there, Claud ! Courage, girl ! I see a way to 
save you both,” at that critical instant rang above the roar of 


100 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


the waters the sharp voice of the hunter, who, with wonderful 
tact and celerity, had shot down obliquely across the main 
current, out of it through a narrow side pass, down that and 
round the intervening rocks, and was now driving with main 
strength up another pass, abreast of the objects of his anxiety. 
“ There : now seize the head of my canoe, and hold on to both ; 
and, on your life, be quick ! ” he continued, shouting to the ex- 
hausted young man, while he himself was struggling with all 
his might to get and keep his boat in the right position among 
the battling currents. 

After one or two ineffectual attempts, Claud, with a last des- 
perate effoi’t, fortunately succeeded in securing his grasp on the 
hunter’s boat, without losing his hold on the; other ; when, with 
one mighty effort of the latter, they were all drawn out of the 
vortex together, and soon brought safely to shore. 

“ Fluella, my fair young friend,” said the hunter, taking a 
long breath, and respectfully turning to the rescued girl, as 
the party stepped on to the dry beach, “ I have not often — no, 
never — felt more rejoiced than now, in seeing you stand here in 
safety.” 

“ I know the danger I have been in,” responded the maiden, 
feelingly. “ 0 yes, know to remember, and know to remember, 
also, those who made my escape. Mr. Phillips, I am grateful 
much.” 

“ Don’t thank me,” promptly replied the hunter. “ I am 
ashamed not to have been the first in the rescue, when the 
chief’s daughter was in danger.” 

“ But, Mr. Phillips,” rejoined the other, with an expressive 
smile, “ you have not told me who this stranger is, who seemed 
to measure the value of his own life by such a worthless thing 
as mine.” 

'^True, no,” returned the hunter; “but this gentleman, Flu- 
ella, is young Mr. Claud Elwood, who, with his father and 
mother, has recently moved into the settlement ; and they are 
now my nearest neighbors, at the foot of the lower lake. And 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


101 


to you, Claud, I have to say, that this young lady is the daugh- 
ter of Wenongonet, the red chief, the original lord of these 
lakes, and still living on the one next above.” 

Both the maiden and her gallant young preserver seemed 
equally surprised, at the announcement of each others’ name and 
character : the former, because it suggested questions in the 
solution of which she felt an interest, but which, with the char- 
acteristic prudence of her race, she forbore to ask ; and the lat- 
ter, because he found it hard to realize that the fair-complexioned 
and every way beautiful girl, who stood before him, readily speak- 
ing his own language, and neatly and even richly arrayed in the 
usual female habiliments of the day, with the single exception 
of the gay, beaded moccasins, that enveloped her small feet and 
ankles, — found it extremely difficult to realize that one of such 
an exterior, and of so much evident culture, could possibly have 
descended from the tawny and uncultivated sons of the forest. 

“ You two should hereafter be friends, should you not V* 
observed the hunter, perceiving their mutual restraint, of which 
he wished to relieve them. 

' Rousing himself, with a prompt affirmative reply to the ques- 
tion, Claud gallantly advanced, and extended his hand to his 
fair companion, who, with evident emotion, and a slight suffu- 
sion of the cheek, gave him her own in return, as she said: 

“O yes. Mr. Phillips’ friend is my friend, and, I — I — 
why, I can’t thank him now ; the words don’t come ; the thanks 
remain unshaped in my heart.” 

“ Excuse me,” replied Claud, “ excuse me if I say. Miss 
Fluella, as Mr. Phillips calls you, that you have already ex- 
pressed, and in the finest terms, far more than I am entitled to ; 
so let that pass, and tell us how your mishap occurred?” 

“ O, naturally enough, though rather stupidly,” responded 
the other, regaining her ease and usually animated manner. 
“You must know that I sometimes play the Indian girl, in 
doing my father’s trouting. And, having rowed down to the 
rapids this morning for that purpose, I ran my canoe on to a 


102 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


rock, up h<we at the head of the falls, and thre\v into an eddy 
below, till I had taken a supply. But, like othei folks, I must 
have the one more , — a large one I had seen playing round my 
hook ; and, in my eagerness to take him, I did not notice that my 
canoe had slipped off the rock till I found it drifting down the 
current. I seized my oar, but, with the first blow in the water 
it snapt in my hands. You know the rest, unless, perhaps, the 
number of fish I caught,” she added, pointing to a string of fine 
trout still lying safely in the bottom of her canoe. 

“ Brave girl!” exclaimed the hunter, going up to the boat 
with Claud, to inspect the fish, wdiich they had not before no- 
ticed. “ A good ten pounds, and fine ones, too. Claud shall 
remain here while I go a piece up the lake for a deer, and fol- 
low your example, except the race down the rapids ; but that 
he can’t do, for I shall take our canoe with me, and make him 
fish from the shore, which will be just as well. Are you agreed 
to that arrangement, young man ? ” 

This proposition being accepted, and it being also settled by 
common consent that no further attempt should, at this time, be 
made to ascend the remaining rapids with either, of the boats 
the hunter and Claud, accompanied by the light-footed Fluella, 
took up her canoe and set off with it, along shore, towards a 
convenient landing in the lake above, then not more than sixty 
or seventy rods distant. In a short time the proposed landing 
was reached, and the boat let down into the water. The 
maiden, with an easy and sprightly movement, then flung her- 
self into her seat, and, with a paddle hastily whittled for her out 
of a piece of drift-wood, by the ever ready hunter, sent her little 
craft in a curving sweep into the lake ; when, facing round (o 
her preservers, while a sweet and grateful smile hrok(‘ ov(‘r her 
dimpling features, she bade and bowed them adieu, and went 
bounding over the undulating waves towards her home, on an 
island some miles distant, near the southeastern border of this 
romantic sheet of water. 

“ Can it be,” half-soliloquized Claud, as he stood rivetting his 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


103 


irondermg gaze on the beauteous figure, which, gracefully bow- 
ng with the lightly-dipping oar, was receding from his rapt 
view, and gradually melting away in the distance ; “can it be 
that she is but a mere Indian girl, one of those wild, untutored 
children of the forest ?” - 

“ It is even so, young man,” responded the hunter, rousing 
himself from the reverie into which he also seemed to have 
fallen at the departure of his fair favorite ; “ it is even so; but, 
foi* all that, the very flower of all the womankind, white or red, 
according to my ideas, that ever graced the borders of these 
lakes.” 

“ But how came she by those neatly-turned English features, 
and that clear, white complexion ?” 

“ Why, her mother, who is now dead, was an uncommon 
handsome woman for a squaw, and had, as I perhaps should 
have qualified when I answered so about this girl, some white 
blood in her veins ; or rather had, as the old chief once told me, 
somewhere away back among the gone-by generations, a female 
ancestor, a pure white woman, who was made captive by the 
Indians, and married into their tribe, and who was as handsome 
as a picture. But the white blood seemed to have been pretty 
much lost among the descendants, till the appearance of this 
nonsuch of a girl, in whom every drop of it seemed to have again 
been collected.” 

“ Some might, perhaps, draw different conclusions in the 
case.” 

“Yes, and draw them very wrongfully, too, as I have no 
doubt many people do in such cases ; for I have often noticed 
it among families, and ascertained it as^ a fact, that where a 
person of particular looks and character once lived, his or her 
like, though not coming out visibly in any of the descendants for 
a long time, is sure sooner or later to appear, and so will fre- 
quently hap out in a child four or five generations off ; a com- 
plete copy, in looks, blood, and character, of the original (as far 
as can be judged from family tradition), who may have been 


104 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

dead an hundred years. This is my notion ; and I hold tliat 
every person is destined to be at least once reproduced among 
some of his descendants. I, or the exact like of me, will 
likely enough be seen in some of my blood descendants, fifty or 
an hundred years hence, building dams or mills on these very 
falls, or even riding in a carriage around these wild lakes, where 
I have spent nearly my whole life in hunting moose, and the 
other wild animals known only in the unbroken forest.” 

“ Your theory may be true, but it does not quite account, I 
think, for the evident intelligence and culture of this remarkable 
girl. To appear and converse as she does, she must have seen 
considerable of good society out of the forest, and, I should 
think, schools.” 

“ She has, both. Her father, one fall, when she was a girl of 
ten or eleven, took her along with him to a city on the coast, 
where he went to sell his furs and nice basket-work, and where 
she, some how, excited the lively interest of a good family, and 
particularly of a wealthy gentleman then living in the family. 
Well, the short of the matter is, that they persuaded the chief 
to leave her through the winter ; and, she becoming a favorite 
with them all, they instructed her, sent her to school, and 
dressed her as they would an own daughter, and would only 
part with her in the spring on condition of her returning in the 
fall. And so it has gone on till now, she living with them win- 
ters, and here with her father summers ; for, though they would 
like to take her entirely out of the woods, she would not desert 
her father, who loves her as his life, and calls her the light of 
his lodge, — no, not for all the gold in the cities.” 

“ Vou must then be well acquainted with this Indian family, 
and can give me their history.” 

“ As far as is [)roper for me to tell, as well as anybody, per- 
haps. When I was a young man, I at times used to live with 
the chief, who always made me welcome to his lodge, and gave 
me his confidence. He was then but little past his prime, and 
one of the smartest men, every way, I ever knew. He was then 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


105 


worth property, and lived with his first wife, this girl’s mother, 
who, as I told you, was very good-looking and intelligent. But 
his second wife was as homely as his first was handsome. As to 
Wenongonet himself, who has now got to be, though still active, 
an old man, he claims to have been a direct descendant of 
Paugus, — a grandson, I believe, of that noted chief, — who was 
slain in Lovewell’s bloody fight, and whose tribe, once known 
as the Sokokis or Saco Indians, who were great fighters, it is 
said, were then forever broken up, the most of them fleeing 
over the British highlands and joining the St. Francis Indians 
in Canada. The family of Paugus, however, with a few of the 
head men, who survived the battle, concluded to remain this 
side of the mountain, and try to keep up a show of the tribe on 
these lakes, where they lived till Paugus’ son, who on the death 
of his father became their sagamore or chief, died, when they 
gradually drew off into Canada, leaving Wenongonet, the last 
chiefs son, the only permanent Indian resident, after a whilej 
on these lakes. But come, young man, enough of Indian mat- 
ters for to-day : we must now be stirring, or our day’s work 
may come short. Help me to take my canoe up here into the 
lake ; and, within four hours, the time to which I will limit my 
absence, we will see what can be done by each, in our diflTer- 
ent undertakings.” 

The employment of another half-hour fully sufficed to place 
the canoe of the hunter in the smooth water above the rapids ; 
when the latter, with a cheery “ heigh ho,” at each light dip of his 
springy oar, struck off towards the foot of the pine-covered hills 
that lift their green summits from the western shores of the 
lake, leaving his young companion to proceed to his allotted 
portion of the sports or labors of the day. Preparing his long 
fishing-rod and tackle, according to the instructions which the 
hunter had given him for adapting his mode of fishing to the 
locality and season, Claud made his way along down the edge 
of the stream to a designated point, a short distance above the 
place where, on the occurrence of the incident before described, 


106 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


they had Ceased to ascend the rapids in their canoes. He here 
found, as he had been told, below a traversing reach of bare 
breakers, a large, deep eddy of gently revolving water, in the 
centre of which lay tossing on the swell a broad spiral wreath 
of spotless foam. The hunter, in selecting these rapids, and es- 
pecially this resting-spot of the ascending fish, as the place 
where he could safely warrant the taking of the needed supply 
of trout, had not spoken without knowledge ; for it may well be 
doubted whether there could be found, in a-11 the regions of the 
north, a reach of running water of equal length with this wild 
and singularly picturesque portion of the Androscoggin river, 
containing such quantities of this beautiful fish as are found 
about midsummer, swarming up the rapids on their way from 
the Umbagog to the upper lakes. 

So, at least, Claud then found it ; for, having passed to the 
most outward point of rocks inclosing the eddy, he no sooner 
threw in and drew his skip bait round the borders of the foam- 
island just named, than a dozen large trout shot up from be- 
neath, and leaped splashing along the surface, in keen rivalry 
for the prize of the bait. With a second throw, he securely 
hooked one of a size which required all his strength to draw it, 
as he at length did, flapping and floundering to a safe landing. 
And lor the next three hours he pursued the sport with a suc- 
cess which, notwithstanding the great number that broke away 
from his hook, well made good the augury of his beginning. By 
that time he had caught some dozens, of sizes varying from one 
to seven pounds, and enough, and more than he needed. But 
still he could not forego his exciting employment, and, insensi- 
ble of the lapse of time, continued his drafts on the seemingly 
inexhaustible eddy, till roused by the long, shrill halloo of 
the returned hunter, summoning him to the landing above. 
Throwing down his pole by the side of his proud display of fish, 
he hastened up to the lake, where he found the hunter com- 
placently employed in removing, for lightness of carriage, the 
head and oflTal of a noble fat buck; when the two, with mutual 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


107 


congratulations on their success, took up the canoe, and, with a 
stop only long enough to take in the trout, carried and launched 
their richly-freighted craft at a convenient place in the stream 
below. Seeing Claud securely seated in the bottom of the canoe, 
and the freight nicely balanced, the hunter took his paddle, in- 
stead of setting-pole, the better to restrain the speed of the boat 
at the most rapid and dangerous passes, and struck out into the 
current, adown which, under the quick and skilful strokes of its 
ex])erieuced oarsman, it was borne with almost the swiftness of 
a bird on the wing, till it reached the quiet- waters of the pond; 
and, this being soon passed over, they entered and descended 
the next reach of rapids with equal speed and safety. All 
the dangers and difficulties were now over ; and, leisurely row- 
ing homeward, they were, by sunset, at the cottage of the 
Elwoods, displaying the fruits of their enterprise, and recounting 
their singular adventures to the surprised and gratified inmates. 


CHAPTER IX. 


“ Then came the woodman with his sturdy team 
Of broad-horned oxen, to com{)lete the toil 
Which axe and fire had left him, to redeem, 

For culture’s hand, the cold and root-bound soil.” 

The next morning, it being the day appointed for the “ log- 
ging bee,” the Elwoods were again up betimes, to be prepared 
for the reception of the expected visitants. On going out into 
the yard, while yet the coming sun was only beginning to flush 
the eastern horizon, Mr. El wood perceived, early as it was, 
a man, whom he presumed, from the handspike and axe on his 
shoulder, to be one of the company, entering the opening and 
leisurely approaching, with an occasional glance backward 
along the road from the settlements below. Not recognizing 
the man as an acquaintance, Elwood noted his appeai-ance 
closely as he was coming up. He was a rather young-looking 
man, of a short, compactly built figure, with quick motions, and 
that peculiar springy step which* distinguishes men of active 
temperament and hopeful, buoyant spirits; while the fox like cat 
of his features, the lively gray eyes that beamed from them, 
and the evidently quick coming and going thoughts that seemed 
to flash from his thin-moving nostrils and play on his curling 
lips, served to indicate rapid perceptions, shrewdness, and a 
kind and perhaps fun-loving disposition. 

“ Hillo, captain, — or captain of the house, as I suppose you 
must be,” he sang out cheerily, as with slackening step he ap- 
proached Elwood ; “ did you ever hear spoken of, a certain 
rough-and-ready talking sort of a chap they call Jonas 
Codman ? ” 


( 108 ) 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 109 

“ I have heard of a Mr. Codman, and was told that he would 
probably be here to-dayf’ doubtfully replied Elwood. 

“ Well, I am he, such as he is, pushed forward as a sort of 
advanced guard, — no, herald must be the book-word, — to tell 
you that you are taken. Did you mistrust it?” 

“ No, not exactly.” 

“ You are, nevertheless. But I’ll tell you a story, which, if you 
can see the moral, may give you some hints to show you how 
to turn the affair to your advantage without suffering the least 
inconvenience yourself ; and here it is: 

“ There was once a curious sort of a fellow, whose land was 
80 covered with stones, which had rolled down from a mountain, 
that little or nothing could grow among them ; and the question 
was, how he should ever remove them. Well, one day, when 
he was thinking on the matter, he found in the field an old 
Black-Art book, on the cover of which he read, * One chapter 
icill bring one^ two chapters two^ and so on; but set and keep 
them at work, lest a. worst thing befalV So, to see what would 
come of it, he read one chapter ; when a great, stout, dubious- 
looking devil made his appearance, and asked what he should 
go about ? ‘ Go to throwing these stones over the mountain,’ 

said the man. The devil went at it. But the man, seeing tlie 
poor devil was having a hard job of it, read on till he had 
raised about a dozen of the same kind of chaps, and set them 
all at work. And so smashingly did they make the stones fly 
that, by sunset, the last were disappearing ; and the man was 
about to set them to pulling up the stumps on his newly-cleared 
land. But they shook their heads at this, and, being pretty 
well tuckered out, agreed to quit even, if he Would, and go off 
without the usual pay in such cases made and provided in 
devildom ; when, he making no objections, they, wdth another 
squint at the green gnarly stumps, cut and run ; and all the 
chapters he could read after that — for he began to like the fun 
of having his land cleared at so cheap a rate — would nevei 
bring them back again.” 


110 


GAUT GURLEY ; OB, 


So saying, the speaker turned ; and, without the explanation 
or addition of a single word, retraced his steps and disappeared 
in the woods, leaving the puzzled Elwood to construe the moan- 
ing of his story as he best could. Very soon, however, sounds 
reached his ears which enabled him to form some conjecture 
what the man intended by his odd announcement. The ming- 
ling voices of ox-team drivers, with their loud and peculiarly 
modulated Haw Buck ! gee! and up there^ ye lazy loons ! 
were now heard resounding through the woods, and evidently 
approaching along the road from the settlement. And soon an 
array of eight sturdy pair of oxen, each bearing a bundle of 
hay bound on the top of their yoke with a log chain, and each 
attended by a driver, with a handspike on his shoulder, march- 
ing by their side, emerged one after another from the woods, 
and came filing up the road towards the spot where he stood. 
As the long column approached, Elwood, with a flutter of the 
heart, recognized in the driver most in advance, the erect, stal- 
wart figure and the proud and haughty bearing of Gaut Gurley. 

“ Good-morning, good-morning, neighbor Elwood, as I have 
lately been pleased to find you,” exclaimed Gurley, with an air 
of careless assurance, as he came within speaking distance. 
“ We have come, as you see, to give you a lift at your logging. 
So show us right into your slash, and let us go at it, at once. 
We shall find time to talk afterwards.” 

Elwood, with some general remark expressive of his obliga- 
tion to the whole of the company at hand for their voluntary 
and unexpected kindness, led the way to the burned slash, and 
went back to meet and salute the rest of the company, as they 
severally came up. Having performed this ceremony with 
those having the immediate charge of the oxen, till the whole 
had passed on to their work, he turned to the rest of the com- 
pany, whom, though before unnoticed by him, he now found 
following immediately behind the teams. These consisted of 
some half-dozen sturdy logmen, with their implements, appointed 
to pair oflf with the drivers of the teams, so as to provide two 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


Ill 


men to each yoke of oxen ; the hunter, Phillips, with his 
brisk wife and buxom daughter, bearing a basket of plates, 
knives, forks, spoons, and extra frying-pans, to supply any de- 
ficiency Mrs. Ehvood might find in furnishing her tables or in 
cooking for so large a company ; and lastly. Comical Codman, as 
he was often called by the settlers, who, though the first to come 
forward to meet Elwood, was now bringing up the rear. 

“ A merry morning to you,” exclaimed the hunter, as the 
logmen turned oflT to the slash; “a merry morning to you 
neighbor Elwood. This looks some like business to-day. You 
were not expecting us a very great sight earlier than this, I 
conclude,” he added, with a jocular smile. 

“ Pearlier ? AVhy, it is hardly sunrise yet, and I am wholly 
at a loss to know how men living at such distances could get 
here at this hour.” 

“ Well, that is easily explained. They haven’t had to travel 
so far this morning as* you imagine. They came on as far as 
my place last night, mostly, and such as could be accommodated 
nestled with me in my house. The rest camped out near by in 
the bush, which is just as well generally with us woodsmen. 
But you, having no mistrust of this, as it seems, were taken, I 
suppose, by surprise at our appearance so early.” 

“ I should have been, wholly so, but for the coming ahead of 
this gentleman,” replied Elwood, pointing to Codman ; “ and 
then, I was rather at loss to know what he intended by his 
queer way of announcing you.” 

“ Very likely. He never does or says any thing like other 
folks. Jonas,” contined the hunter, turning^to the odd genius 
of whom he was speaking, “you are a good trapper, but 1 fear 
you make a bad fore-runner.” 

“ Well, I am all right now here in the rear, I suppose,” re- 
plied the other, with an oddly assumed air of abashment. “ A 
man is generally good for one thing or t’other. If 1 ain’t a 
good forerunner, it then follows that I am a good hind-runner.” 

You see he must have his fol-de-rol, Mr. Elwood,” said th« 


112 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


hunter. But, for all that, he is a good fellow enough at the 
bottom, if you can ever find it : ain’t all that so, Jonas ? ” 

“ Sort of so and sort of not so ; but a little more not than 
sorter, they may say, perhaps. And I don’t think, myself, 
there is much either at the top or bottom to brag on,” rejoined 
Codman, suddenly darting off to join his companions in the 
slash ; and now whistling a tune, as he went, and now crowing 
like a cock, in notes and tones each of its kind so wondrous 
loud and shrill that the whole valley of the lake seemed 
wakened by the strange music. 

The operations of the day having been thus auspicuously 
commenced in the slash, Elwood, retaining the hunter with him 
at the house to advise and assist in such arrangements and pre- 
parations for breakfast as might render the meal most acceptable 
to the company, entered at once upon his duties as host; and, it 
being found that neither the room nor tables in the house were 
sufficient to seat all the company, it was decided, for the purpose 
of avoiding every appearance of invidious distinction, to pre- 
pare temporai-y tables and seat the whole of them, except the 
females, in the open air near the house. Accordingly the 
hunter, who, from his experience as a woodman, was ever 
ready at such contrivances, went to work ; and, clearing and 
levelling off a smooth place, driving into the ground three 
sets of short stout crotclies, laying cross-pieces in each, and 
then two new pine planks longitudinally over the whole, he soon 
erected a neat and substantial table, long enough to seat a score 
of guests. Seats on each side were then supplied by a similar 
process ; when Mrs. Elwood, who had watched the operation 
with a housewife’s interest, made her appearance with a roll 
of fine white tablecloths, the relics of her better days, and 
covered the whole with the snowy drapery, making a table 
which might vie in appearance with those of the most fashion- 
able restaurants of the cities. Upon this table, plates, knives 
and forks, with all other of the usual accompaniments, were 
epeedily arranged by the quick-footed females ; while the sounds 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


115 


of boiling pots, and the hissing frying-pans spreading through 
the house and around the yard the savory fumes of the cooking 
trout, betokened the advanced progress of the culinary opera- 
tions within, which were now soon completed ; when the fact 
was announced by Mr. Elwood by several long and loud blasts 
on his “ tin horn ” to the expectant laborers in the field, who, 
while the meal was being borne smoking on to the table, chained 
their oxen to stumps and saplings about the field, parcelled out 
to them the hay, and repaired to their morning banquet. 

Banquet ! A banquet among backwoodsmen ? Yes ; and 
why not ? It is strange that a thousand generations of epicures 
should have lived, gluttonized, and passed away from the earth, 
without appearing to understand the chief requisite for that 
class of animal enjoyments which they seem to make the great 
end and aim of their lives, — without appearing to realize that 
it is the appetite, not the quality of the food, that makes the 
feast ; that there can be no such thing as a feast, indeed, with- 
out a real not factitious appetite ; and that there can be no 
real appetite without toil or some prolonged and vigorous 
exercise. Nero ransacked his whole kingdom, and expended 
millions for delicacies ; and yet he never experienced, prob- 
ably, one-half the enjoyments of the palate that were expe- 
rienced from the coarsest fare by his poorest laboring subject. 
No, the men of ease and idleness may have suideits, the men 
of toil can only have banquets. And it is doubtless a part of 
that nicely balanced system of compensations which Provi- 
dence applies to men, that the appetites of the industrious poor 
should make good the deficiencies in the quality of their food, 
so that it should always afford equal Enjoyment in the con- 
sumption with that experienced by the idle rich over their 
sumptuous tables. 

The meal passed off pleasantly; and w’hen finished, the 
gratified and chatty workmen, with their numbers now in- 
creased by the • addition of the two El woods and the hunter, 
returned, with the eager alacrity of boys hurrying to an ap* 


114 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


pointed game of football, to their voluntary labors in the field, 
in which they had already made surprising progress. 

The business of the day was now resumed in earnest. The 
teamsters having quickly scattered to their respective teams 
and brought them with a lively step on to the ground, and 
having there each received their allotted quota of log-rollers, 
to pile up the logs as fast as drawn, at once penetrated at 
different points into the thickest parts of the blackened masses 
of timber before them, awaiting their sturdy labors. Here the 
largest log in a given space, and the one the most difficult to 
be removed, was usually selected as the nucleus of the proposed 
pile. Then two logs of the next largest size were drawn up 
on each side, and placed at a little distance in a line parallel 
with the first, when the intermediate spaces were filled with 
limbs, knots, and the smallest timber at hand ; so that a fire, 
when the process of burning the piles should be commenced, 
communicated at the centre thus prepared, would spread 
through the whole, and not be likely to go out till all the logs 
were consumed. When this foundation was laid, the next 
nearest surrounding logs were drawn alongside and rolled up 
on skids, by the logmen stationed there with their handspikes 
for the purpose. Then generally commenced a keen strife 
between the teamster and the log-rollers, to see which should 
first do their part and keep the others the most closely em- 
ployed. And the result was that in a very short time a large 
pile of logs was completed, and a space of ten or fifteen square 
rods was completely cleared around it. This done, an adjoin- 
ing thicket of timber was sought out, another pile started, and 
another space cleared off in the same manner. And thus pro- 
ceeded the work, with each team and its attendants, in every 
part of the slash ; while the same spirit of rivalry which had 
thus began to be exhibited between the members of each gang 
Boon took the form of a competition between one gang and an- 
other, who were now everywhere seen vieing with each other 
in the strife to do the most or to build up the largest and 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


ii.n 

greatest number of logrheaps in the shortest space of time. The 
whole field, indeed, was thus soon made to exhibit the animated 
but singular spectacle of men, engaged in a wholly voluntary 
labor, putting forth all the unstinted applications of strength 
and displaying all the alertness and zeal of men at work for 
a wager. But, among all the participants in the labors of the 
day, no one manifested so much interest in advancing the 
work, no one was so active and laborious, as Gaut Gurley. 
Not only \vas he continually inciting and pressing up all others 
to the labor, but was ever foremost in the heaviest work him- 
self, generally selecting the most difficult parts for himself, and 
often performing feats of strength that scarcely any two men 
on the ground were able to perform. Nor was the Herculean 
strength which he so often displayed before the eyes of the 
astonished workmen, ever made useless, as is sometimes the 
case with men of great physical powers, by any misapplication 
of his efforts. He seemed perfectly to understand the business 
in which they were engaged ; and, while all wondered, though 
no one knew, where he had received his training for such 
work, it was soon, by common consent, decided that he was 
much the most efficient hand on the ground, many even going so 
far as to declare that his equal was nevep before seen in that 
part of the country. 

“You see that, don’t you, captain?” said Codman, coming 
up close to Elwood, and speaking in a half whisper, as he 
pointed to Gaut Gurley, who, having noticed two of the stoutest 
of the hands vainly trying to roll up a large log, rushed for- 
ward, and, bidding them stand aside, thre\y it up single-handed 
without appearing to exert half his strength. “You see that, 
don’t you, captain?” he repeated, with an air of mingled 
wonder and waggishness. “ Now, what do you think of my 
story, and the great, stout, black-looking devil that came, on 
reading the first chapter, and made the big stones fly so ? ” 

“ I haven’t thought much about it,” carelessly replied Elwood, 


116 


GAUT GURLET ; OR, 


evidently wishing not to appear to understand the allusion of 
the other. “ But why do you ask such a question?” 

“ Don’t know myself, it’s a fact ; but I happened to be think- 
ing of things. But say, captain, you haven’t been reading any 
chapters in any strange book yourself, lately, have you ? ” said 
Codman, with a queer look. 

“ No, I guess not,” replied Elwood, laughingly, though visibly 
annoyed by the subject. 

“ No? Nor none of the family?” persisted the other, glanc 
ing towards Claud Elwood, who was standing near by. “Well, 
I wish I knew what put that story into my head, when I let 
it otf this morning. It is de-ive-lish queer, at any rate, con- 
sidering.” So saying, he walked otf to his work, croaking like 
a rooster at some questionable object. 

Although none of the settlers present seemed disposed to 
attribute the extraordinary physical powers, which Gaut Gur- 
ley had so unmistakably shown, to any supernatural agency, 
as the trapper, Codman, whose other singularities were not 
without a smart sprinkling of superstition, was obviously in- 
clining to do, yet those powers were especially calculated, as 
may well be supposed of men of their class, to make a strong 
impression on the minds of them all, and invest the possessor 
with an importance which, in their eyes, he could in no other 
way obtain. Accordingly he soon came to be looked upon as the 
lion of the day, and suddenly thus acquired, for the time being, 
as he doubtless shrewdly calculated he could do in this way, a 
consequence and influence of which no other man could boast, 
perhaps, in the whole settlement. 

Meanwhile the work of clearing off the logs was prosecuted 
with increasing spirit and resolution. And so eagerly intent 
had all the hands become, in pressing forward to its completion 
their self-imposed task, which all could see was now fast draw- 
ing to a close, that they took no note of the flight of time, and 
were consequently taken by surprise when the sound of tho 
horn summoned them to their midday meal. 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 11 ? 

“ Why I it can’t yet be noon,” exclaimed one, glancing up at 
the sun. 

“ No,” responded another. “ Some of us here have been 
counting on seeing the wliole job nearly done by noon, but it 
will take three hours yet to do that. No, the women must have 
made a mistake.” 

“ Well, I don’t know about that: let us see,” said the hunter, 
turning his back to the sun, and throwing out one foot as far 
as he could while keeping his body perpendicular. “ Now 
my clock, which, for noon on the 21st of June, or longest day 
of summer, is the shadow of my head falling on half my foot, 
and then passing off beyond it about half an inch each day for 
the rest of the season, makes it, as I should calculate the 
distance between my foot and the shadow of my head, now 
evidently receding, — makes it, for this last day of August, about 
a quai’ter past twelve.” 

“ 1 am but little over half past eleven,” said Codman, pulling 
out and inspecting an old watch. “ Phillips, may be, is thinking 
of that deer that he has been promising himself and us for 
dinner; and, before I take his calculation on shadows and 
distances, I should like to know how many inches he allowed 
for the hurrying influence of his appetite.” 

“ What nonsense. Comical ! But what you mean by it is, I 
suppose, that I can’t tell the time?” 

“ Not within half an hour by the sun.” 

“ Why, man, it is the sun that makes the time ; and, as that 
body never gets out of order or runs down, why not learn to 
read it, and depend directly upon it fof the hour of the day ? 
If half the time men spend in bothering over timepieces were 
devoted to studying the great clock of the heavens, they need 
not depend on such uncertain contrivances as common clocks 
and watches to know the time of day.” 

“ But hoAv in cloudy weather?” 

“ Tell the time of day by your feelings. Take note of the 
state of your appetite and general feelings at the various hours 


118 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


of the day, when it is fair and you know the time, and then 
apply the rule when you have no other means of judjing; and 
you may thus train yourself, so that you need not be half an 
hour out of the way in your reckoning through the whole 
day.” 

“ Well, supposing it is night ? ” 

“ Night is for sleep, and it is no consequence to know the 
time, except the time waking. And, as to that, none need be 
in fault, if they had you anywhere within two miles to crow 
for them.” 

“ A regular hit ! I own it a hit, Mr. Hunter. But here 
comes Mr. Elwood : we will leave the question of the time of 
day to him.” 

“ We have a correct noon-mark at the house, and the women 
are probably right,” replied Elwood. “ At all events, men 
who have worked like lions, as you all have this forenoon, must 
by this time need refreshment. So, let us all drop work, and 
at once be off to dinner.” 

With such familiar jokes and converse, the light-hearted 
backwoodsmen threw off their crocky frocks, and, after washing 
up at a runlet at hand, marched off in chatty groups to the 
house, where they found awaiting their arrival the well-spread 
board of their appreciating hostess, this time made more tempt- 
ing to their vigorous and healthy appetites by the addition, to 
the fine trout of the morning, of the variously-cooked haunclies 
of the hunter’s venison. And, having here done ample justica 
to their excellent meal, they again hastened back to their labor 
in the field, unanimously declaring for the good husbandman’s 
rule, “ Work first and play afterwards,” and saying tliey would 
have no rest nor recreation till they had seen the last log of 
the slash disposed of. And with such animation did they resume 
their labors, and with such vigor continue to apply themselves 
in carrying out their resolution, and in hastening the hour of 
its fulfilment, that by the middle of the afternoon their task 
was ended ; and the gratified Mr. Elwood had the satisfaction 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


119 


of seeing the formidable-looking slash of the morning con- 
verted into a comparatively smooth field, requii’ing only the 
action of the fire on the log heaps, with a few days’ tending, to 
make it fit for the seed and harrow. 

“ Come, boys,” said the hunter to the company, now all within 
speaking distance, except two or three who had somehow dis- 
appeared ; “ come, boys,” he repeated, after pausing to see the 
last log thrown up in its place, “ let us gather up here near the 
middle of the lot. Comical Codman and some others, I have 
noticed, have been putting 'their heads together, and I kinder 
surmise we may now soon expect some sort of christening 
ceremony of the field we have walked through in such fine style ‘ 
to-day; and, if they make out any thing worth the while, it may 
be well to give them a good cheer or two, to wind off with.” 

While the men were taking their stand at the spot designated 
by the hunter, Codman was seen mounting a conspicuous log- 
heap at the southerly end of the field ; and two more men, at 
the same time, made their appearance on the* tops of ditferent 
piles on opposite sides of the lot, and nearly abreast of the 
place where the expectant company were collected and standing, 
silently awaiting the commencement of the promised ceremony. 
Presently one of the two last-named, with a preliminary flourish 
of his hand, slowly and loudly began : 

“ Since we see the last lo^s fairly roll’d, 

And log-heaps full fifty, all told, 

We should deeni it a shame 
If so handsome and well-cleared a field, 

Bidding fair for a hundred-fold yield. 

Be aflbrded no name.” * 

To this, the man standing on the opposite pile, in the same loud 
and measured tone promptly responded : 

“ Then a name we will certainly give it. 

If you’ll listen, and all well receive it, 

As justly you may : 


120 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


We will call it the thin" it will make. 

We will name it the Pride of the Lake, 

Or the Job of a Day.'* 

Before the last words of this unique duet had died on the 
ear, Comical Codman on his distant perch straightened up, and, 
triumphantly clapping his sides like the boastful bird whose 
crowing he could so wonderfully imitate, raised his shrill, loud, 
and long-drawn kuk-kuk-ke-o-ho in a volume of sound that 
thrilled througli the forest and sent its repeating echoes from 
hill to hill along the distant borders of the lake. 

“ There, the dog has got the start of us •! ” exclaimed the 
hunter, joining the rest of the company in their surprise and 
laughter at the prompt action of the trapper as well as at the 
striking character of his performance, — “ fairly the start of us ; 
but let’s follow him up close, boys. So here goes for the new 
name ! ” 

And the prolonged “ hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! ” burst from the 
lips of the strong-voiced woodmen in three tremendous cheers 
for the “ Pride of the Lake and the Job of a Day.” 

All the labors and performances of the field being now over, 
the company gathered up their tools, and by common consent 
moved towards the house, where, it was understood, an hour or 
so, before starting for their respective homes, should be spent 
in rest, chatting with the women, or other recreation, and a 
consultation also be held, among those interested, for forming 
a company, fixing on the time, and making other arrangements 
for the contemplated trapping and hunting expedition of the 
now fast-approaching season. 

As the company were proceeding along promiscuously towards 
the house, Gaut Gurley, who had tlius far through me day 
manifested no desire for any particular conversation with Mr. 
Elwood, nor in any way deported himself so as to lead others 
to infer a former acquaintance between them, now suddenly 
fell in by his side ; when, contriving to detain him till the rest 
had passed on out of sight, he paused in his steps and said: 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


121 


“ Well, El wood, I told you in the morning, you know, that 
we would do the work first and the talking afterwards- The 
work has now been done, and I hope to your satisfaction.” 

“Yes — O yes — entirely,” replied Elwood, hesitating in his 
doubt about what was to follow from the other, whose un- 
expected conduct and stand for his benefit he hardly knew how 
to construe. “ Yes, the neighbors have done me a substantial 
favor, and you all deserve my hearty thanks.” 

“ I was not fishing for thanks,” returned Gaut, half-con- 
temptuously, “ but wished a few words with you on private 
matters which concern only you and myself. And, tn come to 
the point at once, I would ascertain, in the first place, if you 
know whether you and I are understood, in this settlement, to 
be old acquaintances or new ones?” 

“ New ones, I suppose, of course, unless it be known to the 
contrary through your means. 1 have not said a word about 
it, nor have my family, I feel confident,” replied Elwood, de- 
murely. 

“Very well; our former acqaintance is then wholly un- 
suspected liere. Let it remain so. But have you ever hinted 
to any of the settlers what you may have knorwn or heard 
about me, or any former passages of my life, which occurred 
when I used to operate in this section or elsewhere ? ” 

“ No, not one word.” 

“ All is well, then. As you have kept and continue to keep 
my secrets, so shall yours be kept. It is a dozen or fifteen 
years since I have been in this section at all. It is filling up 
with new men. There are but two persohs now in the settle- 
ment that can ever have seen or known me. And they will 
not disturb me.” 

“ Then there are two that have known you ? Who can they 
be?” 

“ One is Wenongonet, an old Indian chief, as he calls himself, 
still living on one of the upper lakes, they say, but too old to 


i22 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


ramble or attend to anybody’s business but his own. The 
other is Phillips, the hunter.” 

“ Phillips ! Phillips, did you say ? Why, as much as he has 
been at our house, he has never dropt a word from which one 
could infer that you were not a perfect stranger to him.” 

“ I did not suppose he had. Phillips is a peaceable, close- 
mouthed fellow ; pretends not to know any thing about anybody, 
when he thinks the parties concerned would rather have him 
ignorant ; keeps a secret by never letting anybody know he 
has one ; and never means to cross another man’s path. I can 
get along with h'm^ too. And the only question now is whether 
you and I can live together in the same settlement.” 

“ It will probably be your fault if we can’t. I shall make 
war on no one.” 

“ My fault ! Why I wzsA to be on good terms with you ; 
and yet, Elwood, you feel out of sorts with me, and, in spite 
of all I can do, seem disposed to keep yourself aloof.” 

“ If I do seem so, it may be because the past teaches me 
that the best way to avoid quarrels is to avoid intimacies. You 
know how we last parted in that gambling-room. I had no 
business to be there, I admit ; but that was no excuse for your 
treatment.” 

“Treatment! Why, Elwood, is it possible you have been 
under a misapprehension about that, all this time?” responded 
Gaut, with that peculiar wheedling manner Avhich he so well 
knew how to assume when he wished to carry his point with 
another. “ My object then was to save the money for you and 
me, so that we could divide it satisfactorily between ourselves. 
I was angry enough at those other fellows, whom I saw getting 
all your money in that way, I confess ; and, in what I said, I 
was whipping them over your shoulders. I thought you under- 
stood it.” 

“ I didn’t understand it in that way,” replied Elwood, sur- 
prised and evidently staggered at the bold and unexpected 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


125 


statement. “ I didn’t take you so : could that be all you in- 
tended ? ” 

“ Certainly it was,” resumed Gaut, in the same insinuating 
tone “ Had I supposed it necessary, I should have seen you 
and explained it at the time. But it is explained now ; so let 
it go, and every thing go that has been unpleasant between us ; 
let us forget all, and henceforth be on*good terms. Our chil- 
dren, as you may have suspected, seem intent on being friends ; 
and why should not we be friends also ? It will be a gratifica- 
tion to them, and we can easily make it the means of benefiting 
each other. You know how much I once did in helping you 
to property, — I can do so again, if we will but understand each 
other. What say you, Elwood ? Will you establish the treaty, 
and give me your hand upon it ? ” 

Elwood trembled as the other bent his fascinating gaze upon 
him, hesitated, began to demur feebly; but, being artfully 
answered, soon yielded and extended his hand, which Gaut 
seized and shook heartily; when at the suggestion of the latter 
they separated and proceeded by different courses, so that they 
might not be seen together, to join the company at the house, 
whom they found, as they expected, in consultation about the 
proposed trapping and hunting expedition to the upper lakes, 
the time of starting, and the names and number of those volun- 
teering to join the association, only remaining to be fixed and 
ascertained. That time was finally fixed on the 15th of Sep- 
tember, and the company was formed to consist of the two 
El woods, Phillips, Gurley, Codman, and such others as might 
thereafter wish to join them. This being settled, they broke 
up and departed for their respective homes. 


CHAPTER X. 


** All good to me is lost ; 

Evil, be thou my good " 

The next scene in the slowly unfolding panorama of our 
story opens at the house of Gaut Gurley, on the banks of 
the Magalloway. Gaut reached home, on the evening of the 
logging bee, about sunset ; and, having put out his team, en- 
tered his house, where he found his wife alone, his daughter 
being absent on a visit to a neighbor. Contrary to what miglit 
have been expected, after the favorable impression he had so 
evidently made on the settlers that day, and the attainment of the 
still more important object with him, the regaining of his old fatal 
influence over Elwood, he appeared morose and dissatisfied. 
Something had not worked to his liking in the complicated 
machinery of his plans, and he showed his vexation so palpably 
as soon to attract the attention of his submissive but by no 
means unobservant wdfe, who, after a* while, plucked up the 
courage to remark : 

“ What is the case, Gaut ? Have you been working your- 
self to death for those Elwoods, to-day, or has something gone 
wrong with you, that makes you look so sour this evening?” 

“ I have worked hard enough, God knows ; but that I in- 
tended, for I had objects in view, most of which I think I have 
accomplished, but ” 

“ But not all, I suppose you would say ?” 

‘‘Well, yes, there is^ one thing that has not gone exactly to 
suit me, over there.” 

“ What is that, Gaut ?” 

“ It is of no consequence that you should know it. If I 

( 124 ) 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


125 


should name it, you would not see its bearing on my plans, ] 
presume.” 

“ Perhaps not, for I don’t know what your plans are, these 
days. 1 used to be able to guess out the objects you had in 
view, before you came here, whether you told me or not. But, 
since you have been in this settlement, I have been at loss to 
know what you are driving at; I can’t understand your move- 
ments at all.” 

“ What movements do you mean, woman ?” 

“ All of them ; but particularly those that have to do with 
the El woods.” 

“ What is there in my course toward them, since they came 
here, that you can’t understand ?” 

“ Well, ni tell you, Gaut. When you believed Elwood to be 
rich, I could easily see that you thought it would be an object 
to bring about an acquaintance between his son and only heir, 
and our Avis ; and I knew you was, those days, studying how 
it could be done, and I always suspected that you in some 
way disposed of that picture of her lor the purpose, instead of 
sending it to your relations, and ” 

“ And what ?” exclaimed Gaut, turning fiercely on his wife. 

Suspected! What business had you to suspect.^ And you 
told Avis what you thought, I suppose?” 

“ Not a word, never one word ; for I knew she was so 
proud and particular, that, if she mistrusted any thing of that 
kind to have been done, she would flounce in a minute. No, I 
never hinted it to her, or anybody else, and it was guesswork, 
after all.” replied the abashed wife, in a deprecating tone, — she 
having been temnted, by the unusual mood which her stern 
husband had manifested for discussing his private affairs with 
her, to venture to speak much more freely than was her wont. 

“ Well, see that you don’t hint any tiling about that, nor any 
thing else you may take it into your silly head to guess about 
my objects,” rejoined the other, in a somewhat mollified tone. 

But now go on with what you were going to say.” 


126 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


“ Well,! could understand your course before Elwood failed v 
but, when be did, I could see no object, either in following him 
here, or having any thing particular to do with him, or any of 
his family. But you seized on the first chance, after we cjmie 
here, to court them, and have followed it up ; first, in tlie affair 
of the young man and Avis, and then, in drumming up the whole 
settlement in getting up this logging bee for the old man. Isow, 
Gaut, you don’t generally drive matters at this rate without 
something in view that will pay ; and, as I can see nothing to 
he gained worth so much pains, I don’t understand it.” 

“ I didn’t suppose you did, and it is generally of little conse- 
quence wliether you see through my plans or not; hut, in this 
case ” 

Here Gaut suddenly paused, rose, and took several turns 
across the room, evidently debating with himself how far it was 
policy to disclose his plans to his wife ; when, appearing to 
make up his mind, he again seated himself and resumed: 

“ Yes, as this is a peculiar case, and coming, perhaps, in part 
within the range of a woman’s help, if she knows what is want- 
ed, and one which she may unintentionally hurt, if she don’t, 
I suj)pose I must give you some insight into my movements, so 
that you can manage accordingly, help when you can, and do no 
mischief when you can’t; as you probably will do, for you well 
know the consequences of doing otherwise.” 

“ 1 will do all I can, if I can understand what you want, and 
can see any object in it,” meekly responded the woman. 

“ Well, then, in the first place,” resumed the other, “you 
know how many years I slaved myself, and what risks I run, to 
help Elwood make that fortune ; how he threw me off with sim- 
ple wages, instead of the share I always intended to have for 
such hard and dangerous services ; and how he failed, like a fool, 
before I got it.” 

“ I knew it all.” 

“ Tlien you can easily imagine how much it went against my 
grain to be balked in that manner. At all events, it did ; and 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


12t 


I soon determined not to give up the game so, even if that '.va.- 
all. And ascertaining that Ehvood, by allowances made by the 
creditors to his wife, and sales of furniture which they allowed 
the family to retain, brought quite a little sum of money into 
the settlement, — enough, at any rate, to pay for his place, put 
him well afloat, and make him a man of consequence in such a 
new place, — I soon made up my mind on buying and settling, 
for present purposes, here, too, as we did.” 

“ Yes, but what do you expect to make here more than in any 
other new country ? And what can you make out of the 
El woods, more than any other new settlers ?” 

“ A good deal, if all things work to my mind. There is 
money to be made here. I could do well in the fur business 
alone, and at the worst. And, by the aid of one who could be 
made to favor my interests, there is no telling what could be 
done. Now, what claim had I on any other settler to be that 
one to aid me ? On Elwood I had a claim to help me to prop- 
erty in turn ; and I determined he should do it. But he must 
first be brought into the traces. He has got out with me, 
and must be reconciled before I can do much with him.” 

“ I shoiild think he ought to be by this time, after what 

you have been doing for him, without his asking.” 

• “ Without asking ? Why, that was just the way to do it. As 

I calculated, he was taken by surprise, disarmed, and yielded ; 
so that object is accomplished, as well as making the right 
impression on the other settlers by beating them at their own 
work.” 

“ 1 begin to understand, now.” 

“ You will understand more, soon ; that was only part of my 
object.” 

“ What was the other "part ?” 

“ To insure the consummation of the match between Avis 
and young Elwood, which now seems in fair progress, but which 
would be liable to be broken olf, if his family should continue to 
be unfriendly to me.” 


128 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


“Why, that was the thin" I could understand least of all. 
The young man is well enough, I suppose, but I thought you 
had looked to have Avis make more of herself, and do better 
for us. She is still young, and we don’t know what chances she 
mav have. If she and the young man should keep on intimate, 
and set their hearts on it, I don’t know that I should oppO'-e it 
much ; but what object we can have in helping it on, I can t, for 
the life of me, see. I have not said a word against it, because 
I saw that you were for it. But, if I had been governed by my 
own notions, I should have sooner discouraged than helped it on.” 

“ I suspected so ; and, for that reason, as well as others, I 
see I must tell you a secret, which the Elwoods themselves don’t 
know, and which I meant should never pass my lips ; and, when 
I tell it to you, see that it never passes yours. That young 
man, Claud Elwood, whom you think so ordinary a match, is 
heir to a large property. A will is already executed making 
him so.” 

“Is that so, Gaut ?” 

“ Yes, I have known it for months. I made the discovery be- 
fore I decided to move here.” 

“ It is a wonder how you could keep it from me.” 

“ Humph ! It is a greater wonder how I came to tell you at 
all, and I fear I shall yet repent it ; but things had come to a • 
pass that seemed to make it necessary.” 

“ But who is the man, and where, who is going to giv.e the 
young man such a property ?” 

“ It is not for you to know. I have told you enough for all 
my purposes. And this brings me back to your first question, 
when I admitted that there was one thing which had not gone 
io my liking. There was^ indeed, one thing that disturbed and 
vexed" me ; and that was the discovery I made, over there, to- 
day, that Elwood’s wife is an enemy to me. I contrived all 
ways to get speech with her, but she studiously avoided giving me 
a chance, nor was I able once even to catch her eye, that I might 
give her a friendly nod of recognition. I know she never 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


129 


wished me about, in former times, but I then attributed he" 
coldness to the pride of the rich over the poor. But I now 
think it was because she hated me. I am satisfied she is an 
enemy, at heart ; and will, for that reason, prove a secret and 
I fear dangerous opposer to a match which will connect me 
with her family, unless something is done to reconcile her.” 

“ How can that be done?” 

“ Perhaps you can do something. We start, in about a 
fortnight, on the fall hunt, — both the Ehvoods, myself, and 
others. When we are gone, you can go down into that neigh- 
borhood, get acquaint(‘d with some of the women, and get them 
to call with you on Mrs. Elwood ; and, if Avis could be made 
to go and see her, so much the better. She would make an 
impression without trying. You would have to manage, but 
how, I am not now jirepared to decide. I will think of it, and 
you may, and we will talk it over again. I have told you this, 
now, that you might understand the situation of affairs ; and 
the object, which you will now see, is worth playing for. And, 
if we can can carry this last point, the last danger will be 
removed, — unless Claud himself proves fickle.” 

“ 1 guess there will not be much danger of that in this set- 
tlement. What girl is there that he could think of in compar- 
ison with Avis ? ” 

“ I think there is none ; and still, there is one whom I would 
rather he Avould not see.” 

“ Who can that be, I should like to know ? ” 

■ “ She is the daughter, or is claimed to be, of an old Indian 
chief, called Wenongonet, who lives up the lakes, and was once 
A man of some consequence, both with Indians and whites.” 

‘‘ An Indian girl ! Pudge ! ” 

“ You might alter that tune, if you should see her. She is 
white as you are, and has, most of the time, of late years, lived 
in some of the old settlements, been schooled, and so on. I 
saw her, soon after we came here, with another woman, at the 
south end of the lake, where she was visiting in the family of 


130 


GAUT GURLET ; OR, 


one of the settlers, and I inquired her out, as she appeared so 
much above the common run of girls. But she is courted, 
they say, by a young educated Indian, called Tomah, from 
Connecticut-river way, where I used to see him. He ought to 
be able to take care of her. But hark ! what was Uiat ? It 
sounded like the trotting of some heavy horse. I’ll see.” 

So saying, Gaut rose and went to the window, when, after 
casting a search ing look out into the road, and pausing a mo- 
ment, in evident doubt and surprise at what met his gaze, he 
muttered: “The devil is always at hand when you are talking 
about him ; for that must be the very fellow, — Tomah himself! 
But what a rig-out I Wife, look here.” 

The woman promptly came to the window, when her eyes 
were greeted with the appearance of a smart-looking and 
jauntily-equipped young Indian, mounted on the back of a 
stately, antlered moose, that, by some contrivance answering 
to a bridle, he was about bringing to a stand in the I'oad, oppo- 
site to the house. Without heeding the exclamations of sur- 
prise and questions of his wife, who had never seen an animal of 
the kind, Gaut stepped out of the door, and, after pausing long 
enough to satisfy himself that he was not known to the other, 
said, after the distant greeting customary among strangers had 
been exchanged: 

“ That is a strange ho'rse you are travelling on, friend.” 

“ No matter that, when he carry you well,” replied the In- 
dian, whose language was a little idiomatic, notwithstanding 
his education. 

“ Perhaps not ; but I should think he would be a hard trottef 
for most riders.” 

“ Moose don’t care for that : he say, he carry you ten miles 
an hour, you not the one to complain : if you no like, you no 
ride.” 

“ How did you tame him to be so manageable ? ” 

“ Caught him a little calf, four years ago ; trained him young 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. ISi 

to mind halter; then ox-work, horse-work. This year ride 
him. No trouble, you let him enough to eat.” 

“ Where did you catch him ? ” 

“ Over tlie mountain. Live there. My name John Tomah. 
Been liere to hunt some, but not see you before. Another man 
live in this house last spring.” 

Yes, I am a new-comer. But I have heard some of tlie 
settlers speak of you, I think. You are the Indian that has 
been to college ? ” * 

“ Yes, been there some, but in the woods more. Love to 
hunt, catch beaver, sable, and such things. Come here to hunt 
now, soon as time. But must have moose kept when off hunt- 
ing : thought the man lived here do that. May be you keep 
him, while 1 come back. Pay you, all right.” 

“ Yes, if I could; but where could I keep him? He would 
jump any pasture or yard fence there is here, and then run 
away, would he not ? ” 

“No. Stay, after week or two, and get wonted, same as 
horse or cow. I go to work, make yard, keep him in a while, 
and feed him with grass or browse. I tend him first. You 
keep him, — you keep me, till go hunting ; then get boy. Pay 
well, much as you suit.” 

Gaut Gurley never acted without a strong secret motive. 
He had been intently studying the young Indian during the 
conversation just detailed, with a view of forming an opinion 
how far his subservience could be secured ; and, appearing to 
iK'Come satisfied on this point, and believing the first great 
step for making him what was desired would be accom{)lishefi 
by yielding to his request gracefully, however much family 
inconvenience it might occasion, Gaut now turned cordially to 
him, and said : 

“ Yes, Tomah, I will do it. I like your looks, and 1 will do 
it for yow, but wouldn’t for anybody else. We can get along 
with your animal, somehow ; and you shall stay, too, till our 
company start on our hunt, and then you shall go with us. I 


132 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


will see that you have fair play. I will be your friend ; and 
perhaps I may want a good turn of you some time.” 

Like that ; go with you ; show you how catch beaver. Do 
all I can.” 

“ Very well ; and perhaps I can help you in some way. 
You have an affair that you feel a peculiar interest in, with 
somebody on the upper lake, and ” 

“ You know that ? ” interrupted the startled but evidently not 
displeased Indian. 

“ Yes, I have heard something about it.” 

“ But how you help there ? ” 

“ 0, I can contrive a way for you to make the matter work 
as you wish, if you will only persevere.” 

“Persevere? Ah, means keep trying. Yes, do that; but 
she don’t talk right, now ; perhaps, will, you help, then we be 
great friends, sure.” 

The treaty being thus concluded, the gratified young Indian 
dismounted, with his rifle and pack, containing his blanket, 
hunting-suit, etc., which he carried before him, laid across 
the shoulder of his novel steed ; and, under the guidance of 
Gaut, he led the animal into the cow-yard, where he was tied 
and fed, and the fence, already made high to exclude the 
wolves, as usual among first settlers, was topped out by laying 
on a few additional poles, so as to prevent the possibility of 
his escape. This being done, Gaut conducted his new-found 
friend into the house, and introduced him, to his wife and also 
to his daughter, who had by this time returned, as the young 
Indian that had been to college, but still had a liking for the 
woods. 

“ I have often thought I should feel interested in seeing an 
educated native of the forest,” remarked Avis, after the civili- 
ties of the introduction had been exchanged. “ Books, when 
you became able to read and understand them,” she continued, 
turning to the Indian, “ books must have opened a new world 
to you, and the many new and curious things you found in 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. l33 

them must have been exceedingly gratifying to you, Mr. To- 
roah.” 

“ Yes, many curious things in books,” replied Tomah, indif- 
ferently. 

“ And also much valuable knowledge?” rejoined Avis, inter- 
rogatively. 

Vhiluable enough to some folks, suppose,” replied the other, 
with the air of one speaking on a subject in which he felt no 
particular interest. “Lawyers make 'money ; preachers get 
good pay for talking what they learn in books ; so doctors.” 

“ But surely,” persisted the former, who, though disappointed 
in his replies, yet still expected to see, if she could draw him 
out, the naturally shrewd mind of the native made brilliant by 
the light of science, “ surely you consider an education a good 
thing for all, giving those who receive it a great advantage 
over those who do not?” 

“ Yes, education good thing,” responded Tomah, his stolid 
countenance beginning to lighten up at the idea which now 
struck him as involving the chief if not the sole benefit of his- 
scientific acquirements; “yes, education good, very good, some- 
time. Instance : I go to Boston with my moose next winter ; 
show him for pay, one, two days; then reckon up money — 
addj then reckon up expenses — subtract; tell how much I 
make. Make much, stay ; make little, go to other place. Yes, 
education good thing.” 

“ But I should think you might do better with your educa- 
tion than you could by following the usual employments of 
vour kind of people,” resumed the pther, still unwilling to see 
the subject of her scrutiny fall so much below her preconcep- 
tion of an educated Indian. “ You say, lawyers, preachers, 
and doctors make money from the superiority which their ed- 
ucation has given them ; now, why don’t you profit by your 
education, and go into a profession like one of theirs, and obtain 
by it the same wealth and position which you see them en- 
joying?” 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


134 

“ Did try,** replied Tomah, with an evident effort to elevate 
his language, and meet the question candidly. “ When I came 
home from the school, people all say. Now you go and live like 
white folks, in village, and study to be doctor, make money, 
be great man. So went ; study one year ; try hard to like ; 
but no use. Uneasy all the time ; could not keep down the 
Indian in me; he always rising up, more every day, all the 
time drawing me away to the woods, — pull, pull, pull. I fight 
against him ; put him down little some time ; but he soon up 
again, stronger than ever. Found could not make myself over 
again ; must be as first made ; so gave up ; left study for the 
woods ; and said. Now let Indian be Indian as long as he like.” 

Satisfied, or rather silenced, by Tomah’s reasons. Avis turned 
the conversation by asking him to relate to her how he caught 
and tamed his moose. She found him completely at home in 
this and other of his adventures in the forest, which he was 
thus encouraged to relate, and in which he often became a 
graphic and interesting narrator, and displayed the keen ob- 
servation of the objects of nature, together with the other 
peculiar qualities of his race, to so much advantage that she 
soon relinquished her favorite idea of ever finding a philoso 
pher m an educated Indian. 

In presenting the above picture, drawn from one of the many 
living prototypes that have fallen within our personal observa- 
tion, or come within our knowledge derived from reliable 
sources, we had no wish to disparage the praiseworthy acts and 
motives of those spirited and patriotic men who, like Moore, 
in establishing his well-known charity school, in connection with 
Dartmouth college, may have, in times past, founded and en- 
dowed schools for the education of the natives of the forest; 
nor would we dampen the faith and hopes of those philanthro- 
pists who still believe in the redemption of that dwindling race 
by the aids of science and civilization ; but we confess our ina- 
bility to perceive any general results, flowing from the attemnta 
of that character, at all adequate to the pains and outlay be> 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


135 


stoAved on the experiment. And we think we cannot be alone 
m this opinion. We believe that those results, when gathered 
up so tliat all their meagreness could be seen, have sadly dis- 
appoitited public expectations ; that this once hivorite object 
and theory, of elevating and benefiting the red man by taking 
Iiim irom his native woods and immuring him in the school- 
roohi, has been, in the great majority of the cases, a futile one ; 
and that whole ' system, indeed, can now be regarded as but 
little less than a magnificent failure. 

There have been, it is true, some brilliant exceptions to the 
application of our remarks, such as may be found in the pious 
and comparatively learned Samson Occom, the noted Indian 
preacher of the times of the Pilgrims; in the eloquent Ojibway 
chief ot our own times, and a few others ; as well as in the 
person we liave already introduced into this w’ork, the intelli- 
gtmt and beautiful Fluella. But only as exceptions to the 
general ride, we fear, can we fairly regard them, — for, where 
there is one Occom, there are probably ten Toniahs. 

Education, or so much of it as he has the patience and 
ability to acquire, seems often to unsettle and confuse the mind 
of the red man ; for, while his old notions and tmditions are 
disturbed or sw'ept away by it, he fails of grasping and digest- 
ing the new ones which science and civilization present to }}is 
miinl ; and he falters and gropes, like an owi in the too strong 
light of the unaccustomed sun. In his natural condition, he can 
ot. least realize the happy picture which the poet has drawn of 
him : 

“Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutored mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: 

Ilis soul proud science never taught to stray 
Far as the solar walk or milky way; 

Yet simple nature to his hope has given, 

Behind the cloud-topt hill, an luimMer heaven, 

8ome safer world in depth of wood embraced ; 

Some happier i iluud iu the wat’ry waste, 


136 


GAUT GURLEY. 


TYhere slaves once more their native land behold, 

No fiends torment, no Christian thirsts for gold. 

To be content ’s his natural desire ; 

He asks no angel’s wings, no seraph’s fire ; 

But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 

His faithful dog shall bear him company.” 

But now, in his new and anomalous position, even this happi- 
ness and this content is taken away, while he is unable to 
embrace an adequate substitute. His old faith is shaken, but 
no new one is established. Before, he could see God in clouds 
or hear him in the wind ; but now he can scarcely see God in 
any thing. His physical system, in the mean while, deprived 
as it is of the forest atmosphere, in which it was alone fitted to 
exist and reach its greatest perfection, suffers even more than 
his mental one. And his whole man, both mental and physical, 
begins to degenerate, and soon dwindles into insignificance. 
Yes, it is only in his native forests that the Indian appears in 
his wild and peculiar dignity of character. There only can he 
become a being of romance, and there only a hero. And there, 
in conclusion, we would say, in view of the unsatisfactory re- 
sults of the experiments made to elevate him by any of the 
methods yet adopted, — there we would let him remain. 

But we must now on with our tale, the main incidents of 
which we have only foreshadowed, not touched. 


CHAPTER XI. 


"Hearts will be prophets still.** 

The week succeeding the logging bee was an extremely 
busy one with the Elwoods, who still had aTieavy task to per- 
form on their new field, before it could be considered properly 
cleared or fitted for seeding and harrowing. Sixty days before, 
that field was covered with a heavy growth of primitive forest, 
standing in its native majesty, a mountain mass of green vigor 
and sturdy life, and as seemingly invincible against the assaults 
of man as it had been against those of the elements whose 
fury it had so long withstood. But the busy and fatal axe had 
done its work. That towering forest had been laid prostrate 
with the earth, and the first process of the Herculean task of 
converting the forest into the field had been completed. The 
second and third process, also, in the burning of the slash and 
the gathering the trunks of the trees into log-heaps, as we have 
seen, had been in turn successfully accomplished. But the 
fourth and last process still remained to be peiformed. Those 
unseemly log-heaps, cumbering no inconsiderable portion of the 
field, must be disposed of, to complete the work. This was 
now the first task of the Elwoods, and time pressed for its 
speedy execution. Accordingly, t^e next morning after the 
bee, they sallied out, each with a blazing brand in his hand, 
and commenced the work of firing the piles, — a work which, 
unlike that of firing a combustible and readily catching slash, 
required not only considerable time, but often the exercise of 
much skill and patience. But they steadily persevered, and, 
before sunset, had the gratification of beholding every on» of 
those many scores of huge log-piles, that thickly dotted the 

( 137 ) 


138 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


ground, clearly withm the grasp of the devouring element ; and 
afterwards of seeing that grasp grow stronger and stronger on 
the solid material on which it had securely fastened, till, to the 
eye of fancy, the dark old forest seemed by day to be reprodu(;ed 
in the numerous, thickly-set columns of smoke that shot upward 
and spread out into over-arching canopies above, while, with 
the gathering darkness of the night, that forest seemed gradu- 
ally to take the form of a distant burning city in the manifold 
tapering pillars of fire which everywhere rose from the fiekl, 
fiercely illuminating the dark and sombre w^ood-wall of the 
surrounding forest, and dimly glimmering over the sleeping 
waters of river and lake beyond. 

They had now made the fire their servant, and got it safely 
at w'ork for them ; but that servant, to insure its continued 
and profitable action, must be constantly fed and fostered. The 
logs, becoming by the action of the fire partially consumed, and, 
by thus losing their contact with each other, ceasing to burn, 
required, every few hours, to be rolled together, adjusted, and 
repacked ; when, being already thoroughly heated and still 
partly on fire, they would soon burst out again into a brisk 
blaze. This tending and re-packing of the piles demanded, 
for many of the succeeding days, the constant attention of the 
Elwoods ; wiio, going out early each morning, and keeping up 
their rounds at short intervals through the day and to a late 
hour at night, assiduously pursued their object, till they had seen 
every log-heap disappear from the field, and the last step of 
their severe task fully accomplished. 

Few of those who live in cities, villages, or other places 
than those where agricultural pursuits prevail ; few of those, 
indeed, who have been tillers only of the subdued and time- 
mellowed soils of the old States and countries, have any ade- 
quate conception of the immense amount of hard labor required 
to clear off the primitive forest, and prepare the land for the 
first crop ; nor have they, consequently, any just appreciation 
of the degree of resolution, energy, and endurance necessary to 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


139 


insure continued perseverance in subduing one piece of forest* 
land after another, till a considerable opening is effected. It 
is the labor of one man’s life to clear up a new farm ; and few 
there be, among the multitudes found making the attempt, who 
have the sustaining will and resolution — even if the pecuniary 
ability is not wanting — to accomplish that formidable achieve- 
ment. Probably not one in five of all the first pioneer settlers 
of a new country ever remain to become its permanent settlers. 
Tlie first set of emigrants, or pioneers, are seen beginning with 
great resolution and energy, and persevering unfalteringly till 
the usual ten-aci’e lot is cleared, the log-house thrown up, and 
the settlement of the family effected. Another piece of forest 
is the next year attacked, but with a far less determined will, 
and the clearing prosecuted with a proportionate lack of energy 
and resolution ; and the job, after being suffered to linger along 
for months beyond the usual period for completion, is finally 
finished. But, in view of the hard labors and prolonged strug- 
gles they have experienced in their two former trials for con- 
quering the wilderness, they too often now falter and hesitate 
at a third attempt. Perhaps the lack of means to hire that 
help, which would make the toil more endurable, comes also 
into the case ; and the result is that no new clearing is begun. 
They live along a while as they are ; but, for want of the first 
crops of the newly-cleared land and the usual accessions to 
their older fields, they soon find themselves on the retrograde, 
and finally sell out to a new set of incoming .settlers, who in 
their turn begin with fresh vigor, and with more means gener- 
ally for prosecuting advantageously^ the work which had dis- 
couraged or worn out their predecessors. But even of this 
second set a large proportion fail to succeed, and, like the 
former, eventually yield their places to more enterprising and 
able men, who, with those of the two former sets of settlers 
that had succeeded in overcoming the difficulties and retaining 
their places, now join in making up the permanent settlers of 
the country. 


140 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


Such is generally the history of the early settlement of every 
new country. Those who have endured the most hardship, 
encountered the greatest difficulties, and performed the hardest 
labor, do not generally reap the reward which might eventually 
crown their toils, but leave that reward to be enjoyed by those 
to whom such hardships and toils are comparatively unknown. 
This seems hard and unjust ; but, from the unequal conditions 
and characters of men, it is doubtless a necessary state of 
things, and one which, though it may occasionally be somewhat 
modified, will never, probably, as a general thing, be very 
essentially altered. 

The Elwoods, having now thus brought the labors of clearing 
to a successful close, next proceeded to the lighter and more 
cleanly task of taking the, incipient step towards securing the 
ever-iinportant first crop which was to reward them, in a good 
part, for their arduous toils. Accordingly, the previously 
engaged supply of winter wheat intended for seed was brought 
home, the requisite help and ox-work enlisted, the seed sown, 
and the harrows and hoes put in motion to insure its lodgment 
beneath the surface of the broken soil. And, by the end of 
the second day from its commencement, this task was also com- 
pleted, leaving our two persevering settlers only the work of 
gathering in the small crops of grain and potatoes they had 
succeeded in raising on their older grounds, to be performed 
before leaving home on the contemplated trapping and hunting 
expedition; the 'appointed day for which was still sufficiently 
distant to allow them abundant time to do this, and also to make 
all other of the necessary arrangements and preparations for 
that, to them, novel and interesting event. 

But how, in the meanwhile, stood that domestic drama of 
love and its entanglements, which was destined to be deeply 
interwoven with the other principal incidents of this singular 
story ? All on tiie surface seemed as bright and unruffled as 
the halcyon waters of the sleeping ocean before the days of 
storm have come to move and vex it. But how was it within 


THE TRAPPEES OP UMBAGOG. 


141 


the rail of the heart and teeming mind, where the currents and 
counter-currents of that subtle but powerful passion flow and 
clash unseen, often gaining their full height and unmasterable 
strength before any event shall occur to betray their existence 
to the public. How was it there? We shall see. 

While the events we have described in the last foregoing 
chapters were transpiring, Mrs. Elwood held her peace, studi- 
ously avoiding all allusion to what still constituted the burden 
of her mind, — the thickening intimacy between her family and 
the Gurleys ; but, though she was silent on the subject, yet her 
heart was not any the less sad, nor her thoughts any the less 
busy. She had been made aware that a reconciliation had 
taken place between her husband and Gaut Gurley ; and she 
had seen how artfully the latter had brought it about, and i-e- 
gained his old fatal influence over the former. She believed 
she fully understood the motives which actuated Gaut in all 
these movements. And she now looked on in hel])less anguish 
of heart to see the toils thus drawn tighter and tighter aiound 
the unconscious victims, and those victims, too, her husband and 
son, with whose happiness and welfare her own was indissolubly 
connected. She saw it with anguish, because her feelings aever 
for once were permitted even the alleviation of a doubt that it 
could result in aught else than evil to her family. She could 
not reason herself into any belief of Gaut’s reformation. She 
felt his black heart constantly throwing its shadow on to her 
own ; she felt this, but could not give to others, nor perhaps 
even to herself, what might be deemed a satisfactory reason for 
her impressions and forebodings; for in her was exemplified the 
words of the poet : 

‘ The mind is capable to show 
Thoujrhts of so dim n feariire, 

That consciousness can only know 
Their presence and their nature.'* 

Such thought!? were hers, — dim and flitting, indeed; but she 
felt conscious of their continued presence, of their general 


142 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


character, and deeply conscious what they portended. They 
took one shape, moved in one course, and all pointed one 
way, and that was to evil, — some great impending evil to the 
two objects of her love and solicitude. 

“ But is there no hope?” she murmured aloud, in the full- 
ness of her heart, while deeply pondering the matter, one day, 
as she sat alone at her open window, looking out on her hus- 
band and son engaged in their harvest, which she knew they 
were hurrying on to a close, before leaving her on the contem- 
plated long, and perhaps perilous, expedition into the wilder- 
ness, — a circumstance that doubtless caused the subject, in the 
thus awakened state of her anxieties, to weigh at this time 
peculiarly heavy on her mind. “Is there no hope,” she repeated, 
with a sigh, “ that this impending calamity may in some part 
be averted ? ^Must they both be sacrificed ? Must the faults 
of the erring father be visited on the innocent son, who had 
become the last hope of the mother’s heart ? Kind Heaven ! 
may not that son, at leasts be delivered from the web of toils 
into which he has so strangely fallen, and yet be saved ? 
Grant, O grant that hope — that one ray of hope — in this my 
hour of darkness 1 ” 

But what sound was that which now fell upon her ear, as if 
responsive to her ejaculation ? It was a light tap or two on 
the door, which, after the customary bidding of walk in had 
been pronounced, was gently opened, when a young female of 
extreme beauty and loveliness entered. Mrs. Elwood involun- 
tarily rose, and stood a moment, mute with surprise, in the 
unexpected presence. Soon recovering, however, she invited 
the fair stranger to a seat, still deeply wondering who she 
could be and what had occasioned her visit. 

“ You are the good woman of the house ? — the wife of the 
new settler? — the mother of Mr. Claud Elwood?” asked the 
stranger girl, pausing between each interrogatory, till she had 
received an affirmative nod from Mrs. Pdwood. 

“ Yes,” replied the latter kindly, but with an air of increasing 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


14H 


curiosity, “ yes, I am Mrs. El wood. Would you like to see my 
son, Claud ? ” 

“ No,” rejoined the girl, in the same subdued and musical 
accents. “ No, it was not him, but you, I came to see and speak 
with,” she added, carefully, withdrawing a screening handker- 
chief from a light parcel she bore in her hand, and displaying 
a small work-basket of exquisite make, which, advancing with 
hesitating steps, she presented to the other, as she resumed : 

“ I came with this, good lady, to see if you would be suited 
to have such an article ? ” 

“ It is very pretty,” said Mrs. Elwood, examining the work' 
manship with admiration, “ beautiful, indeed. Did you make it.^” 

“ I did, lady,” said the other modestly. 

“ Well, it certainly does great credit to your skill and taste,’* 
rejoined the other. “ I should, of course, be pleased to own it, 
but I have little money to pay for such things. You ought tc 
sell it for quite a sum.” 

“ Hut I do not wish to sell it,” responded the girl, looking up 
to Mrs. Elwood with an expostulating and wounded expression 
“ I do not wish to take money for it ; but hoped you would like 
it well enough to accept it for a gift, — a small token.” 

“ 0, I should,” said Mrs. Elwood, “ if I was entitled to any 
such present ; but what have I ever done to deserve it of you ? 
I do not even know who you are, kind stranger.” 

“ They call me Fluella,” responded the other, the blood 
slightly suffusing her fair, rounded cheek. “ You have not 
seen me, I know. You have not done me the great favor that 
brings my gratitude. It is your brt^ve son that has done both.” 

“ O, I understand now,” exclaimed Mrs. Elwood. “ You are 
the chief’s daughter, whom Claud and Mr. Phillips helped out 
of a difficulty and danger on the rapids, some time since. But 
your token should be given to Claud, should it not ? ” 

“ It would be unsuitable, too much,” quickly, replied the 
maiden, in a low, hurried tone. “ I could not do a thing like 
that. But if you would accept such a small thing ? ” 


144 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


“ I cannot but appreciate and honor your delicacy/* returned 
Mrs. Elwood, with a look of mingled admiration and respect 
“ I think you must be an excellent girl ; and I will accept your 
present, — yes, thankfully, — and never forget the manner in 
which it was bestowed.” 

“ Your words are in my heart, lady. I came, feeling much 
doubtful ; I return, much happy,” said the maiden, rising to 
depart. 

“ Do not go yet,” interposed the matron, who was beginning 
to feel a lively interest in the other ; “ do not go yet. Claud 
should know you are here. I will call him,” she added, stai’t- 
ing for the door. 

“ O no, no, — do not, do not. lie would not wish to be 
troubled by one like me,” hurriedly entreated the maiden, with 
a look of alarmed delicacy. 

“ O, you are mistaken. He would be pleased to see you, and 
expect to be called,” said Mrs. Elwood, in a tone of gentle 
remonsti-ance, while pausing at the unexpected objection. “ But 
it is unnecessary ; for I see that he is already coming, and in a 
moment will be here,” she added, glancing out of the window. 

Having made the announcement, she turned encouragingly 
to the maiden, to reassure her, believing her request that Claud 
should not be called in proceeded entirely from over-difhdence. 
But one glance of her quick and searching eye was sufficient 
to apprise the former that there was a deeper cause for those 
tender alarms. The cheeks of the beautiful girl w'ere deeply 
suffused with crimson, her bosom was heaving wildly, and her 
whole frame w’as trembling like an aspen. As her eyes met 
the surprised gaze of the matron, she became conscious that her 
looks had betrayed the secret she was the most anxious to con- 
ceal ; and she cast an imploring look on the face of the other, 
as if to entreat the mercy of shielding the w'eakness. 

IMrs. Elw(iod understood the silent appeal ; and, approaching 
and laying her hand gently on the shoulder of the other, said, 
In a low, kindly tone : 


THE TRAPPERS pP UMBAGOG. 


145 


‘‘ Have no fears. You have made a friend of me.” 

The girl silently removed the hand, brought it to her lips, 
and, as a bright tear-drop fell upon it, kissed it eagerly. The 
tvo then separated, and resumed their respective seats, to com- 
pose themselves before the expected entrance should be made* 

In a tew moments Claud carelessly entered the house ; but 
stopped short in surprise, at the threshold, on so unexpectedly 
seeing the well-remembered face and form of the heroine of 
his late romantic adventure on the rapids, in the room with 
his mother. But, almost instantlyrecovering his usual manner, 
he gallantly advanced to the trembling maiden, took her by the 
hand, and respectfully inquired about her welfare, and pleas- 
antly adverted to the singular circumstances under which they 
had become acquainted. Soon becoming in a good measure 
assured, by a rec'cption so much more condescending and cor- 
dial than she had dared hope for, from one whose image she 
had been cherishing as that of some superior being, the grate- 
ful and happy girl, now forgetful of her wish to depart, grad- 
ually regained her natural ease and vivacity, and sustained her 
part in the general conversation that now ensued, with an 
intelligence and instinctive refinement of thought and expres- 
tion that equally charmed and surprised her listeners. She 
at length, however, rose to depart, observing that her father, 
who was in waiting for her at the landing, would chide her for 
her long delay ; when Claud offered to attend her to the lake. 
To this she at first objected ; but, on Claud’s assurance that he 
should be pleased with the walk, and that it would afford him 
the opportunity of meeting her father, whom he had a curiosity 
to see, she blushingly assented, and the couple sociably took 
their way to the lake together, leaving Mrs. El wood deeply 
revolving in her mind the new train of thoughts that had been 
awjikened by the remarkable personal beauty and evident rare 
qualities of her fair visitor, and the discovery of the state of 
her feelings, — thoughts which the matron laid up in her heart, 

but forbade her tongue to utter. 

10 


146 


GAUT GUHLET; OB, 


On reaching the landing, Fluella drew a bone whistle from 
her pocket, and blew a blast so loud and shrill that the sound 
seemed to penetrate the inmost depths of the surrounding for- 
est. The next moment a similar sound rose in response from 
the woods, apparently about half a mile distant, on the right, 

“ He has heard me ; that was my father’s whistle. 1 le has 
been taking a short bout in the woods with his rifle, but will 
now soon be here. And Mr. Elwood will wait, I know, for 
the chief wishes to thank the brave that rescued his daughter,” 
said the maiden, looking inquiringly at Claud. 

“ Yes,” replied Claud, “ yes, certainly ; for, even without 
company, I am never tired of standing on this commanding 
point, and looking out on' this beautiful lake and its surrounding 
scenery.” 

“ Ah 1 then you think, Aff. Elwood,” exclaimed Fluella, with 
a countenance sparkling with animation, “ you think of our 
woods life, like one of your great writers, whom 1 have read to 
remember, and who so prettily says : 

* And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 

Finds tongues in trees, l)Ooks in running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.* 

One would almost think thig wise writer must be one of 
my people, he describes our ways of becoming instructed so 
truly ; for we Indians, Mr. Elwood, l ead few other books than 
those we see opened to us on the face of nature, or hear or 
read few other sermons than those in the outspread pages of 
the bright lake, the green woods, and the grand mountain.” 

“ You Indians ! ” said Elwood, looking at the other with a 
playful yet half-chiding expression. “ Why, Fluella, should a 
stranger look at your fair skin, hear you conversing so well in 
our language, and quoting so appropriately from our books, he 
would hardly believe you an Indian, I think, unless you told 
him.” 

“ Then I would tell him, Mr. Elwood,” responded the maiden, 
with dignity, and a scarcely perceptible spice of offended pride 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


147 


m her manner. “ I am one, — on mj father’s side, at least, 
wliolly so ; and, for the first ten or twelve years of my life, was 
but a cliild of tlie woods and the wigwam ; and I will never 
shame at my origin, so far as that matters.” 

“ But you did not learn to read in the wigwam, Fluella?’ 
said Claud, inquiringly. 

“ No,” replied the girl ; the proud air she had assumed, while 
speaking of her origin, quickly subsiding into one of meekness. 
No ; but I supposed that Mr. Phillips, who knows, might have 
told you that, for many years past, I have lived much with 
your people, learned their ways, been to their schools, and 
read their books. And, in owning my natural red father, may 
be I should have also said, I have a good white father, who has 
done every thing for the poor, ignorant, Indian girl.” 

“ But where does this good and generous white father live, 
and what is hJs name.?” asked Claud. 

“ He lives near the seaside city,” answered she, demurely; 
“ I may say so far.. But I do not name him, ever. We think 
it not best. But, if he comes here sometime, as he may, you 
shall see him, Mr. Elwood.” 

At this point of the dialogue, the attention of its participants 
was arrested by the sound of breaking twigs and other indi- 
cations of the near approach of some one from the forest ; and, 
the next moment, emerging through the thick underbrush, 
which he parted by the muzzle of his rifle as he made, his way, 
the expected visitant came into view. Seemingly unmindful 
of the presence of others near by, or of the curious and scru- 
tinizing gaze of Claud, he advanced with a firm, elastic tread, 
and stately bearing, exhibiting a strong, erect frame, a large, 
intellectual head, and handsomely moulded features, with a 
coiintenancij of a grave and thoughtful cast, but now and then 
enlivened by the keenly-glancing black eyes by which it was 
particularly distinguished. With the exception of moccasins 
and wampum belt, he was garbed in a good English dress ; and, 
so far as his exterior was in question, might have easily been 


148 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

mistaken, at a little distance, for some amateur hunter from the 
cities ; while, from the vigor of his movements, and other gen- 
eral appearance, he might have equally well passed for a man 
of the middle age, had not the frosts of time, which were pro- 
fusely sprinkled over his temples, and other visible parts of his 
head, betrayed the secret of his advanced age. 

“ My daughter is not alone,” he said, in very fair English 
utterance, coming to a stand ten or twelve yards distant from 
the young couple. 

“ No,” promptly replied the daughter, assuming the dignified 
tone and attitude usual among those engaged in the ceremo- 
nies of some formal presentation, or public introduction. “ No, 
but my father will be pleased to learn that this is the Mr. Claud 
Klwood, who did your daughter such good service in her 
dangers on the rapids, and whom she has now conducted here, 
that he might have the opportunity to see the chief, and receive 
the thanks which it is more fitting for the father than the 
daughter to bestow.” 

“ My daughter’s words are good,” said the chief. “ The 
young brave has our thanks to last ; but the Red Man’s thanks 
are acted, the White Man’s spoken. Does the young man 
understand the creed of our people ? ” 

Fhiella looked at Claud as if he was the one to answer the 
question, and he accordingly remarked : 

“ I have ever heard, chief, that your people always notice 
a benefit done to them, and that he who does them one secures 
their tasting gratitude/’ 

“The young man,” rejoined the chief, considerately, “has 
heard words that make, sometime, too much ; they make true, 
the good-doer doing no wrong to us after. But when he takes 
advantage of our gratitude he wipes out the debt ; he does 
more, — he stands to be punished like one an enemy always.” 

The maiden here cast an uneasy glance at Claud, and a 
deprecating one at her father, at the unnecessary caution, as 
she believed it, which she perceived the latter intended to con* 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


149 


vey by his words to the former. But, to her relief, Claud did 
not appear as if he thought the remarks had any application to 
himself, for he frankly responded: 

“ Your distinction is a just one, chief. Your views about 
these matters are my own views. Y’our creed is a good creed, 
so far as the remembrance of benefits is concerned ; and I wish 
I could see it observed as generally among my people as I 
believe it to be among yours. But, chief, your daughter makes 
too much out of my assistance, the other day. I did only a 
common duty, — what I should have been a coward not to have 
done. I have no claim for any particular gratitude from her 
or you.” 

‘‘Our gratitude was strong before;, the young man now 
makes sti*onger,” remarked the other, exchanging appreciating 
glances with his daughter. 

“ No, chief,” resumed Claud, “ I did not come here to boast 
of that small service, nor claim any thanks for it, but to see a 
sagamore, who could give me the knowledge of the Red Man 
which I would like to possess ; to see one who*, in times gone 
by. was as a king in this lake country. Ilis own history, and 
that of his people especially, I would like to hear. They 
must be full of interest and instruction to an inquirer like me. 
"Will not the chief relate it briefly? J have leisure, — my ears 
are open to his words.” 

“ Would the young man know the history of Wenongonet, 
alone ? ” said the other, with a musing and melancholy air. 
“ It may be told easier than by words. Does the young man 
see on yonder hill that tall, green pine, which stands braced on 
the rocks, and laughs at the storms, because it is strong and not 
afraid ? ” 

“ I do.” 

That is Wenongonet fifty winters ago. Now, does the 
young man see that tall, dry pine, in the quiet valley below, 
with a slender young tree shooting up, and tenderly spreading 


150 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 

its green branches around that aged trunk, so it would shield 
its bare sides in the colds of winter, and fan its leafless head in 
the heats of summer ? • 

‘‘ Yes, I see that, also.” 

“ That dry tree, already tottering to its fall, is Wenongonet 
now.” 

“ But what is the young tree with which you have coupled 
it?” 

“ The young man has eyes,” said the speaker, glancing affec- 
tionately at his blushing daughter. 

“ But the young man,” he resumed after a thoughtful pause, 
“ would know more of the history of the Red Men who once 
held the country as their own ? Let him read it in the history 
of his own people, turned about to the opposite. Let him call 
the white man’s increase from a little beginning, the red man’s 
decrease from a great, — the white man’s victories, the red 
man’s defe.ats, — the white man’s flourishing, the red man’s 
fading ; and he will have the history of the red men, and the 
reasons of their sad history, in this country. 

“Two hundred year-seasons ago, the Abenaques were the 
great nation of the east. From the sea to the mountains 
they were the lords of Mavoshen.* They were a nation of 
warriors find a wise and active people. But, of all the four 
tribes — the Sokokis, the Anasquanticooks, the Kenabas. the 
Wawenocks — who made up this great nation, the Sokokis 
were the wisest and bravest. Wenongonet is proud when he 
thinks of them. They were his tribe. All the land that sent 
its waters through the Sawocotuc t to the sea was theirs. They 
stood with their warriors at the outposts against the crowding 
white settlers from the west and south. They were pleased to 

♦ The name by which the Province of Maine was designated hy the 
early vovajrers, an;! the Indian word probably from* which the present 
name of the State of Maine was derived. 

t The Indian appellation of the river Saco, which is doubtless an ab 
breviation of the Indian name here introduced. 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOO. 


151 


stand there, because it was the post of danger and of honor in 
the nation. And there they bravely kept their stand against 
that wide front of war, and took the battle on themselves, till 
the snows of more than a hundred winters were made red by 
their rifles and tomahawks. But those who court death must 
often fall into his embrace. So with the Sokokis. They were 
at first a great and many people ; but they wasted and fell, as 
time, the bringer of new and strange things, wore away, before 
the thick and more thick coming of their greedy and pushing 
foes, — by their fire-water in peace and their bullets in war, 
till the many became few, the great small. AVhat the bloody 
Church, wdth his swarm of picked warriors, had- left after his 
four terrible comings with fire and slaughter, the bold Lovewell 
finished, on that black day when the great Paugus and all the 
flower of the tribe found red graves round l heir ancient strong- 
hold and home, — their beloved Pegwacket.* This was the 
last time the tribe was ever assembled as a separate people. 
The name of the Sokokis, at which so many pale faces had 
been made paler, was buried in the graves of the brave war- 
riors who had here died to defend its glory. The feeble rem- 
nant, panic-struck and heart-broken, fled northward, and, like 
the withered leaves of the forest flying before the strong east 
wind, were scattered and swept over the mountains into Canada; 
all but the family of Paugus. who took their stand on these 
lakes, where his son, Waurumba, took the empty title of chief, 
and, dying, left it still more empty to Wonongonet, the last of 
the long line of sagamores, — the last ever to stand here to tell 
the young white man the story of their greatness, and the fate 
of their tribe.” 

On concluding his story, the chief turned to his daughter and 
significantly pointed to the lengthening shadows of the trees on 

* The name of a once populous Indian village, which occupied the 
present beautiful site of the village of Fryel)urg, Me., near LoveweU’s 
Pond, where the sanguinary conflict here alluded to occurred in 1725. 


152 GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

the water, with a motion of his head towards their home up 
the lakes. 

“ The chief thinks,” said Fluella, arousing herself from the 
thoughtful attitude in which she had been silently listening to 
the conversation, — “the chief thinks it time we were on the 
Water, on our way home. We shall liave now to bid Mr. El- 
wood a good-evening.” 

So saying, she stepped lightly into the canoe and took her 
seat. She was immediately followed by the chief, who, quickly 
handling his oar, sent the light craft, with a single stroke, some 
rods into the lake, when, partially turning its bow towards the 
spot where Claud was standing on the shore, he said : 

“ Should the young man ever stray from his companions in 
the hunt, or find himself weary, or wet, or cold, or in want of 
food, when out on the borders of the Molechunk-a-munk, let 
him feel, and doubt not, that he will be welcome to the lodge of 
Wenongonet.” 

“ And, if Mr. Elwood should be in the vicinity of our lake 
this fall, and not happen to be in a so very sad condition, he 
might, perhaps, find a good welcome on calling, — so, especially, 
if he come before the time of the first snows,” added Fluella, 
playfully at first, but with a slight suffusion of the cheek as 
she proceeded to the close. 

“ I thank the chief,” responded Claud with a respectful bow. 
“And I thank you, my fair friend,” he continued, turning more 
familiarly to Fluella. “ I hope to come, some time. But why 
do you speak of the first snows?” 

“ O, the birds take wing for a warmer country about that time, 
and perhaps some who have not wings may be off with them,” 
replied Fluella, in the same tone of playfulness and emotion. 

A stately bow from the father, and another with a sweetly 
eloqu^mt smile from the daughter, completed, on their part, the 
ceremonies of the adieu ; when the canoe was headed round, 
and, by the easy and powerful paddle-strokes of the still vigor- 
ous old man, sent bounding over the waters of the glassy lake- 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


153 


Slowly and thoughtfully Claud turned and took his way 
homeward. “ Who could have expected/’ he soliloquized, “ to 
witness such an exhibition of intellect and exalted tone of feel- 
ing in one of that despised race, as that proud old man displayed, 
in his eloquently-told story? And that daughter! Well, what 
is she to me? My faith is given to another. But why feel 
this strange interest? Yet, after all, it is probably nothing but 
what any one would naturally feel in the surprise occasioned 
on beholding such qualities in such a place and person. No, 
no, it can be nothing more ; and I will whistle it to the winds.” 

And he accordingly quickened his steps, and literally began 
to whistle a lively tune, by way of silencing the unbidden sen- 
sation which he felt conscious had often, since he first met this 
fair daughter of the wilds, been lurking within. But, though 
he thus resolved and reasoned the intruding feeling into nothing, 
yet he felt he would not like to have Avis Gurley know how 
often the sparkling countenance and witching smile of this new 
and beautiful face had been found mingling themselves with 
the previously exclusive images of his dreams. But, if they 
did so before this second interview, would they do it less now? 
Ilis head resolutely answered, “ Yes, less, till they are banished.” 
His heart softly whispered, “ No.” And we will not anticipate 
by disclosing whether head or heart was to prove the better 
pr >phet. 


CHAPTER XII. 


"Away! nor lel^me loiter in my song, 

For we liavc many a mountain path to tread. 

And many a varied shore to sail along, — 

By truth and sadness, not by fictipn, led,” 

The day agreed on, by the trappers, for starting on their 
expedition into the unbroken wilds around and beyond the 
upper lakes to the extreme reservoirs of the lordly Androscog- 
gin, had at length arrived. All the married men belonging to 
the company, not having sons of their own old enough, had 
engaged those of’ their neighbors to come and remain with their 
femilies during their absence from home, which, it was thought 
probable, would be prolonged to nearly December. Steel- 
traps and rifles had been put in order, ammunition plentifully 
provided, and supplies of such provisions as could not be gener- 
ally procured by the rifle and fish-hook in the woods and its 
waters, carefully laid in ; and all were pa/'ked up the night 
previous, and in readiness for a start the next morning. 

It had been agreed that the company should rendezvous on 
the lake-shore, at the spot which we have already often men- 
tioned, and which, by common consent, was now beginning to 
be called Elwood’s Landing.* And, accordingly, early on the 
appointed morning, Mark Elwood and his son Claud, having 
dispatched their breakfast, which Mrs. Elwood had been care- 
ful to make an unusually good and plentiful one, shouldered 
their large hunting packs, with their blankets neatly folded and 
strapped outside ; and, having bid that anxious and thoughtful 
wife and mother a tender farewell, left the house and proceeded 
with a lively step to the border of the lake. On reaching their 
canoe at the landing, they glanced inquiringly around them for 

154 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG, 


155 


some indications of the presence or coming of their expected 
companions. But not a living object met their strained gaze, 
and not the semblance of a sound greeted their listening ears. 
A light sheeted fog, of varying thickness and density in the 
different portions of the wide expanse, — here thin and spray- 
like, as if formed of the breath of some marine monster, and 
there thickening to the appearance of the stratiform cloud, — lay 
low stretched, in long, slow-creeping undulations, over the 
bosom of the waveless lake. 

“ The first on the g»-ound, after all,” exclaimed Mr. Elwood, 
on peering out sharply through the partially-obstructing fog 
in the direction of the outlet of the lake, up through which 
most of the company, who lived on the rivers below, were 
expected to come. “That is smart, after so much cautioning to 
us to be here in season. But they cannot be very far off, can 
they, Claud ? ” 

“ One would suppose not,^^ replied the latter ; “ but sounds, in 
this dense and quiet state of the atmosphere, could be distin- 
guished at a great distance, and, with all that my best faculties 
can do, I cannot hear^a single sound from- any* quarter. — But 
stay, what was that ? ” 

“What did you think you heard, Claud asked Mr. 
Elwood, after waiting a moment for the other to proceed or 
explain. 

“ Why, I can hardly tell, myself,” was the musing reply; 
“but it was some shrill, long-drawn sound, that seemed to come 
from a great distance in the woods off here to the south-east, or 
on the lake beyond.” 

“ Perhaps it was a loon somewhere up the lake,” suggested 
Mr. Elwood. 

“ It may be so, possibly,” rejoined Claud, doubtfully ; “but, 
if there were any inhabitants near enough in that direction, I 
should think it must be — hark, there it is again!, and, as I 
thought, the crowing of a rooster.** 

“ A rooster I then it must be the echo of one, that has some* 


156 


GAUT GURLEY J OR, 


how struck across from Phillips’ barn ; but how could that be ? 
Ah, 1 have just thought : your rooster must be Codman coming 
down the lake. You know how curiously he imitated that crea- 
ture at the logging bee, don’t you ? ” 

“ No ; I happened to be in a noisy bustle in the house, ju«t at 
the time of those queer performances of his, and heard them 
imperfectly. But, if the sound I heard was not that of a veri- 
table rooster, I never was so deceived in my life respecting the 
character of a sound.” 

“Well, I think you will find I am right, but we will wait, 
listen, and see.” 

The event soon proved the truth of Mr. Elwood’s conjecture. 
Suddenly a canoe, rounding a woody point a half-mile to tlie 
right, shot into view, and the old loud and shrill Kuk-kuk-ke-o-Jio 
of Comical Codman rang far and wide over the waters to the 
echoing hills beyond. But, before Claud had sufficiently re- 
covered from his surprise to respond to the triumphant “ / told 
you so ” of his father, the strange salute was answered by a 
merry, responsive shout of voices in the opposite direction; 
and presently two canoes, each containing two men, emerged 
into view from the fog hanging over the outlet, and, joining in 
a contest of speed, to which they seemed to perceive the single 
boatman was, by his movements, challenging them, rapidly made 
their way towards the understood goal of the landing. 

The race is run, 

Tiie vict’ry won I ” 

exclaimed the trapper, in his usual cheery tone and inimitable 
air of mock gravity, as he drew up his oar, to let the impulse of 
his last stroke send his canoe in to the shore of the landing, as 
it did, while the foremost of his com})etitors in the friendly race 
was yet fifty 3 ards distant. “ Mighty smart fellows, you !” he 
resumed, waggishly cocking his eye towards the hunter, who 
had charge of the boat most in advance. What bright and 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 157 

tarly chaps, living 'only from tvvo to five miles ofiT. to let one wlic 
has ten miles to come be in first at the rendezvous!” 

“ Well, Codman, I suppose we must give in,” responded the 
hunter. “ Hut, to do- all this, you must have risen long before 
day ; how did you contrive to wake up ?” 

“ Why, crowed like the house a-fire, and waked myself up, to 
be sure!” re[)lied Codman, promptly. “ How did you suj)pose 
I did it? Hut let that all go; I want to look you over a little. 
You have brought some ne.w faces with you, this time, haven’t 
you, Mr. Hunter?” 

“Yes, here is one,” answered Phillips, pointing to a tall, 
sandy-complexioned, but good-looking man of about thirty, who, 
having occupied the forward seat of the canoe, now (quietly 
stepped ashore; “yes, gentlemen,” added the hunter, addressing 
himself to the Klwoods, standing on the bank, as well as to the 
trapper, “ I make you acquainted with Mr. Carvil, — a man, if 
I ain’t a good deal out in rny reckoning, who might be relied on 
in most any circumstances.” 

The customary salututions were then exchanged with the 
stranger; when the hunter, instinctively understanding that often 
violated rule of true politeness which requires of the introducer 
some accompanying remark, giving a clue to the position and 
character of the introduced, so as to gratify the natural curiosity 
f(dt on such occasions, and to impart more freedom to the con- 
versation, quickly resumed: 

“ Mr. Carvil is a Green Mountaih boy, who loves hunting, 
partly for the health it gives, and partly for the fun of it. His 
old range has usually been round the Great Megantic, the other 
side of the highlands, in Canada, where I have heard of him 
through the 8t. Frauds Indians. Hut, having a mind to see 
and try this side, he came on a few days ago, inquired me out, 
and turned in with me. We from below have invited him to 
join our company; are you all here agreed to that ?” 

“ Certainly,” said Mark Elvvood, in his usual off-hand 
manner. 


158 


GAUT GURLEY; QR, 


“ Certainly,” added Claud, more speeifically, “ I think we 
ought to be gratified in such an acquisition to our company.” 

“ And you, Codraan?” said the hunter, turning inquiringly to 
the trapper. “ It is your turn to speak. But don’t show the 
gentleman sc many of your bad streaks, to begin with, as to put 
him out of conceit of you before he has time to find out your 
good ones.” 

“ Well, I don’t see but I must run the risk, then,” said the 
trapper ; “ my streaks always come out as they come up, I ne.ver 
pick any of them out as samples for strangers. But to the 
question, — well, let’s run him over once, if lie won’t be mad: 
high cheek bones, showing him enough of the Indian make to 
be a good hunter ; a crank, steady eye, indicating honest mo- 
tivi^s, and a good resolution, that won’t allow a man to rest easy 
till his object is carried out ; and lastly, a well-put-togetljcr, 
wiry frame, to bear fatigues, and do the work which so large a 
head must often layout for it. Yes, he passes muster with me 
bravely: let him in, with a welcome.” 

Carvil rewarded these good-natured running comment aries 
on his person and supposed qualities, with a complacent bow ; 
when the trapper turned to the other canoe, which, with Gant 
Gurley and the young Indian described in a preceding chapter 
on board, now came within speaking distance, and sang out : 

“ Ilil-lo! there, you, captain, who made the big logs Hy so 
like the de-i-vel,thi* other day, whether the old chaj) had any hand 
in it or not, what red genius is that you have brought along 
with you ? ” 

“ It’s Tomah, the young red man from the Connecticut-river 
region, who hunted some in this section last fall, I understand. 
1 supposed you had met him before,” replied Gaut. 

“ O, ah, well, yes,” responded Codman ; “ I bethink me, now, 
it is the young Indian that went to college, but couldn’t be kept 
there long enough to make any thing else, though long enough, 
may be, to spoil him for a hunter.” 

“ May be not, too,” retorted Tomah, with a miffed air. which 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


159 


Bhowcd he did iicyt so readily appreciate the half-serious, half- 
sportive manner of the trapper as the otlier stranger had done. 
“ May be, when you out with me catching beaver, one, two 
month, you no crow so loud.” 

“ That’s right,” interposed the hunter ; “the Indian gives you 
what you deserve for your nonsense, Codman. But a truce to 
jokes. Let us all aboard, strike out, and be on our way over 
the lake.” 

Ill compliance with this suggestion, those not already in the 
boats took to their seats, handled their oars, pushed off, and, 
headed by the hunter and his boat companion, and falling, one 
after another, into a line, rowed steadily on across, the broadest 
part of the lake, taking a lofty pine, whose attenuated top looked 
like a reed 'rising over the fog in the distance, as a guide and 
landmai-k to the great inlet, where the most arduous task of 
their expedition was to be encountered, — the surmounting of 
the long line of rapids leading to tlie great lakes above. But tliat 
task, after a [ileasant rowing of a couple of hours had brought 
them to it, was, by dint of hard struggles against the current, 
with oars as long as oars could be made to jirevail ; with set- 
ting-j)oles when oars ceased to serve the purpose; and with 
rojies attaclied to the boats and di’awn from point to point or 
rock to rock, when neither oars nor poles were of any avail ; 
together with the carrying both boats and baggage by land 
round the last and most difficult ascent, — tliat task was at 
length accomplished, and, before one o’clock in the afternoon, 
all the boats, udth their loading, were safely launched on the 
broad bosom of the wild and |)icturesque Molechunk-a-munk. 

Here, however, the company decided on taking their mid- 
day’s lunch, and an hour’s rest, before proceeding on their 
voyage. Bui, not deeming it expedient to incur the trouble and 
delay which the building of fires and the new cooking of pro- 
visions would require, they drew out only their bread and cold 
meats, for the occasion ; and these, as the company were seated 
in an irregular circle on the rocks, were discussed and dis- 


m 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


patched with that keen relish which abstinence and a toil* 
earned appetite alone could have brought them. 

After they liad finislied their repast, they, at the suggestion 
of Phillips and Codnian, the only persons of the company who 
were familiar with the lakes and country above, took up a 
question which they had before discussed, without settling, luit 
which, they were told by the persons just named, must now, 
before proceeding any farther, be definitely settled and undc^r- 
stood. This (juestion was that of the expediency of establish- 
ing a general head-quarters for the season, by building a large, 
storm-proof cam[), and locating it at some central point on the 
shore of one of the tw’o great lakes opening still tibove the one 
on which they were now about to embark. The object of this 
was to insure the company comfortable quarters, to which they 
could resort in case of falling sick, or encountering long storms, 
at which their furs could be collected and more safely kej)t, 
their more cumbrous stores left, and from which their provis- 
ions could be distributed, with the least trouble and travel, to 
the smaller and more temporary camps that each of the com- 
pany, or any two of them, might make at the nearest termina- 
tions, on the neighboring waters, of the different ranges of 
woods they should select for their respective fields of operations. 
The main jiart of the question, tliat of the necessity of estab- 
lishing general head-quarters, was at once, and unanimously, 
decided in the affirmative. The remaining part, that of the 
most eligible location for these quarters, was then fully discussed, 
and finally settled by fixing the point of location about midway 
of the eastern side of the Mooseeluk-maguntic, the next great 
lake above, and, counting from the south, the third in this 
unique chain of secluded lakes and widely clustering lakelets, 
through which the far-spanning Androscoggin pours its vast 
volume of wild waters to the distant bosom of the welcoming 
ocean. 

“ Wisely arranged,” remarked the hunter, at the close cf 
the discussion. “ The next object in view, then, is to reach 


THE TRAPPEirS OF UMBAGOG. 


16 ] 


tliere this evenin", in season to work up something; in the shape 
of a camp, that will serve for the night, and until the good one 
we propose to build can be completed.” 

“ Tliat can be done easily enough,” said Codman,^ “that Is, 
if we will tax our marrow-bones a little extra in pulling at the 
oars. The distance over this lake, up the narrows, or river, 
and across the end of the Maguntic to the mouth of that sec- 
ond stream we have talked of, can’t be much more than a 
dozen miles, and all smooth sailing. Lord, yes ! if we put in 
like decent oarsmen, I warrant we make fetch come, so as to 
be there by the sun an hour high, which will give time to build a 
comfortable camp, and for cooking up the jolly good supper 
Tin thinking to Imve, to pay us foii- a;( these sweats and hard 
pulls up these confounded rapids and over these never-ending 
lakes.” 

“ Well, let us put in, then, boys,” responded Gaut Gurley. 
“ I am as much for tlie go-ahead principle as the best of you. 
Let us try the motion, and earn the good supper, whether we 
get it or not. But, to make the supper quite the thing for the 
occasion, it strikes me we ought to have something a little 
fresher than our salt junk.” 

“Ti •lie, O King, and Great Mogul of the lubber-! ifls,” re- 
joined the trapper ; “ thou talkest like one not altogether with- 
out knowledge of the good living of the woods. That some- 
thing fresher we will have, if it be only a mess of fish, which 
1 think I can' take out of that stream in a short time after we 
get there.” 

“ That could be done as we go along, if these lakes are as 
well stocked with large trout as they are reputed,” observed 
Carvil, in the calm, deliberate manner which characterized him 
on all occasions. 

“ But we mustn’t stop for that,” said the trapper. 

“ There is no need of stopping,” quietly replied the former* 
That’s a queer idea,” said the trapper, evidently at fault 

11 


163 (fAxn GURLEY; or, 

“ How are we to put in and wait for bites, without stopping, 1 
would like to know ? ” 

“ Perhaps 1 may be able to demonstrate the matter, as we 
proceed on our way. At all events, since the question is 
raised, I will try,” replied Carvil, drawing from his [)ocket a 
roll of small silk cord, to which a fish-hook, without any sinker, 
was attached. “ Can any of you handily get at your pork, so 
as to cut off and throw me a small bit? There, that will do,” 
he continued, taking the proffered bit of meat, and baiting his 
hook with it. “Now, the experiment I propose to try is what 
in my region we call ‘troulling,’ which consists of throwing out 
a baited hook and paying out, as the boat moves on, a hundred 
feet, or so, of line, that is left to trail, floating on the surface of 
the water behind ; when most large fish, like bass, or trout, 
especially if you make a sharp tack, occasionally, so as to draw 
the line across an undisturbed portion of the water, will see, 
and, darting up, sieze it, and hook themselves. And, if you 
have many large trout Acre, and they are any related to those 
I have found in the Great IMaguntic, and other large bodies of 
fresh water, they will some of them stand a pretty good chance 
to be found adding to our supper to-night.” 

“ Sorry to hear it,” said the trapper, “ for T have always 
considered the trout a sensible fish, and I should be sorry to 
lose my respect for them. But, if they will do that, they are 
bigger fools than I took them to be. But you ’ll find they just 
won’t.” 

“ Well, T don’t know about that, now. I am not so sure but 
there may be something in it,” remarked the hunter, who 
had been listening to Carvil with evident interest. “ Though 
we have never tried that method in this region, to my knowl- 
edge, yet ray experience rather goes to confirm the notion. I 
remember to have caught several fine trout, when I had laid 
down my pole, and was moving off with my boat, but had left 
my line trailing behind. Those great fellows are not very 
bashful about seizing any thing they think they can eat, which 


THE TRAPPEnS OP UMBAGOG. 


163 


tlipy can see on tlie surface, I have known them do a strangei 
thing tlian to come up and seize a piece of pork.” 

“ What was that ?” asked the trapper. 

“ Well, I don’t know as you will believe the Story,” answered 
the otlier, “but it will be equally true, if you don’t. Some 
years ago I was out on the Umbagog, for a mess of trout, but 
couldn’t get a bite ; and. seeing a flock of black ducks in a 
neighboring cove, I hauled in my line, and rowed off towards 
them, thinking I might get a shot, and so have something to 
carry home, by way of mending my luck at fishing. But, 
before I got near enough to count with much certainty on 
the effect of a shot, if I fired, they all flew up, but one, 
which, thougli it seemed to be trying hard enougli, could not 
raise its body out of the water. As my canoe drifted in nearer, 
J once or twice raised my rifle to fire at it; but it acted so 
strangely, flapping the water with iti, wings, and tugging away 
at swimming, without appearing to gain scarce a single foot, 
that I soon laid down my jiiece and concluded I would try to 
take it alive, supposing it must hav^e got fast tangled with 
something, but witluwhat, I was wholly unable to conceive. 
Sd, taking up my oar, and gunning my canoe, so as to send it 
by within reach of the bird, I gave two or three strong pulls, 
threw down the oar, put out my hand, and sat ready for the 
gr.ib, whi(*h the next moment 1 made, seizing the panting and 
now sinking dijck by one of its outspread wings, and pulling it 
in, with a big trout fastened to its foot and leg so tight by the 
teeth that the hold did not give way till the greedy fish was 
bi'ought slapping over the side,^and landed safely in the bottom 
of the canoe. That trout, when I got home, weigligd just seven 
pounds and nine ounces.” 

“ Wheugh ! whiz ! kak ! ke-o-lio 1” exclaimed, whistled, acd 
crowed Comical Codman. 

• “ I do not doubt it in the least,” said Carvil. 

“ Nor can 1, of course, on Mr. Phillips’ statement,” added 
Mark Elwood; “ but, if I had not known his scrupulousness in 


164 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

matters of fact, I should not have- believed that so strange a 
circumstance had ever happened in the \yorld.” 

^ So the story is voted go-^pel, is ix ? ” rejoined the trapper. 
‘‘ Well, then, I propose we commission its author to cruise 
along the coves this afternoon, sO that he may bring into camp 
to-night trout enough caught in that way to make up wliat 
Mr. Carvil may miss taking by Ins method, together with a 
brace or two of nice ducks, which would be a still further fijae 
addition to our supper.” 

“ Yes, ducks or some other kind of flesh, to go with the fish, 
we may now safely count on being secured, by some of the 
various proposed methods,” here interposed Claud El wood, 
seriously. And I second the motion of such a cruise along 
the shores, by ]\Ir. Phillips, who so seldom fails of killing some- 
thing. And if he, Mr. Carvil, and father, will agree to an 
exchange of boat companions for the afternoon, I should like to 
go with him. I have chosen him my schoolmaster in hunting, 
and I should have a chance for another lesson before we go 
into the separate titdds of our approaching operations.” 

Gaut Gurley started at the suggestion, and cast a few quick, 
searching glances at Claud and the hunter, as if suspecting a 
concert of action between them, for some purpose aflTeering his 
secret plans ; but, appearing to read nothing in either of their 
countenances to confirm such suspicions, and seeing all the rest 
of the company readily falling in with the proposal, he held 
his peace, and joined the others in handling the oars for their 
immediate de])arture ; which was now. in a few minutes taken, 
the main part of the company striking in a direct line across 
the middle of the lake for their destination, leaving the hunter 
and Claud moving off obliquely to the right, for a different and 
farther route among the intervening islands, and along the 
indented shores beyond, — where it will best comport with the 
objects of our story, we think, to accompany them in their 
solitary excursion. 

“ Where away, as the sailors have it ?” said Claud, after the 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOt}. 


165 


two, each with a sin;:^le oar, liad rowed on a while in silencjg ; 
“where away, Mr. Phillips, or in the line of what object in 
siglit would you lay your course?” 

“ \Vhy, I had proposed, in my own mind,” replied the hunter, 
to >teer ilirecl across, so as to graze the east side of I he •'■F'eat 
island you see yonder in the distance; but, as we shall pass 
so near the cove which lies snuggled away between two 
sharp, woody points here, a little ahead to tin* right, we might 
as well, perhaps, haul in and take a squint round it.” 

“ M hat shall we find there?” 

“ Perhaps nothing. It is the place, however, where I found 
that deer which I killed when we were here before.” 

“ Well, if you can count on another, we should turn in there 
now. 

“ We will ; but a hunter, young man, must never talk of 
certainties when going to any particular spot in search of such 
roving things as the animals of the forest. He must learn to 
bear disappointment, and be prepared to find nt)thing where 
he or others had before found .every thing. He must have 
patience. Loss of patience is very apt to be fatal to success 
in almost any business, but especially so in hunting. You 
spoke of taking lessons of me in the craft : this is the very first 
grand lesson I would impress on your mind. Put we are now 
close uj)on the point of land, which we are only to round to be 
in the cove. If you are disposed to row the boat alotie, now, 
keep in or out, stop or mov’e on, as I from to time give the 
word, I will down on my knees in the bow of the boat, with 
cocked rifle in hand, ready for what may be seen.” 

Readily com[)lying, Claud carefully rowed round the point 
and entered the dark and deep indenttire constituting the cove, 
■whose few acres of surface were thrown almost wholly into 
the shade, even at sunny noonday, by the thickly-clustered 
groups of tall, princely pines, which, like giant warriors in 
council, stood nodding their green plumes arour.d the closely- 
encircling shores. Closely hugging the banks, now stopping 


166 GAUT gtjrley; o% 

behind some projecting clump of bushes, now in some roch- 
formed nook, and now in the covert of some low-bending treo- 
top, to give the keen-eyed hunter a chance to peer round of 
through these screening objects into the open spaces along the 
shore beyond, he slowly pushed along the canoe till the whole 
line of the cove was explored, and they reached the point cor- 
responding to the one at which they commenced their look-out 
for game, and all without seeing a living creature. 

“ Pshaw ! this is dull business,” exclaimed Claud, as they 
came out into the. open lake, where he was left free to speak 
aloud. “ This was so fine a looking place for game that I 
felt sure we should see something \vorth taking; and I am quite 
disappointed in the result.” 

“ So that, then, is the best fruit you can show of my first 
lesson in hunting, is it, young man ?” responded the hunter, 
with a significant smile. 

Claud felt the implied rebuke, and promised better behavior 
for the future ; when both seated themselves at the oars, and, 
as men naturally do, after an interval of suppressed action, 
plied themselves with a vigor that sent their craft swifUy surg- 
ing over the waters in the line of their original destination. . 

They now soon reached, and shot along the shore of, a 
beautifully-wooded island, nearly a half-mile in extent, al>out 
midway of which the hunter rested on his oars, and, after Claud, 
on his motion, had done the same, observed, pointing through a 
partial opening among the trees, along a visible path that led 
up a gentle slope into the interior of the island : 

“ There ! do you catch a glimpse of a house-like looking 
structure, in an open and light spot in the w'oods, a little be- 
yond where you cease to trace the path?” 

“ Yes, (juite distinctly. What is it ?” 

“ That belongs to the chief, and might properly enough be 
called his summer-house, as he generally comes here with his 
family to spend the hot months. He raises tine crops of com 
in his clearing on there beyond the house, and saves it all, be- 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


167 


cause the bears, coons, and squirrels, that trouble him else- 
where, are so completely fenced out by the surrounding water.” 

“ Are the family there, now ?” 

“ No ; they have moved back to his principal residence, a 
mile or two distant, on a point of land over against the opposite 
side of this island, and not far out of our course.” 

“ Indeed ! what say you, then, to giving them a call as we 
pass by ? ” 

“ We shall not have time, which is a good reason for not 
calling now, if there were not still stronger ones.” 

“ W hat stronger reasons, or what other reasons at all ? ” 

“ Well, perhaps there are none. But, supposing two of the 
company we left behind, who might happen to conceive they 
have some secret interest at stake, should ever suspect that 
your leading object in leaving them was to make the very visit 
you are now proposing, would you not prefer that we should 
have it in our power to set their minds at rest, when we join 
them to-night, by telling them all the places we did touch at?” 

“It is possible I should, in such a case,” replied Claud, look- 
ing suq)rised and puzzled; “but, ‘ suspected,’ did you say? 
Why should they suspect? and what if they do?” 

“Three questions in a heap, when one is more than I could 
wisely attempt to answer,” evasively answered the cautious 
hunter. 

“ But you must have some reasons for what you said,” per- 
sisted the other. 

“ Reasons founded upon guesses are poor things to build a 
statement on,” rejoined the hunter. “ Half the mischief and 
ill-feeling in the world comes from statements so made. And, 
guessing aloud is often no better. I rather think, all things 
considered, we had better not stop at the chief s, this time. 1 
can show you where he lives, as we pass; and, if that will do, 
we will now handle oars, and be on our way.” 

Much wondering at the enigmatical words of the other, Claud, 
without further remark, put in his oar and thoiightfuily rowed 


16 a 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


on, till they had passed round the head of the island ; when, 
on the indication of the hunter, they stretched away towards a 
distant promontory, on the northeastern shore of the lake. A 
steady and vigorous rowing of half an hour brought them with- 
in a few hundred yards of the headland, for which they had 
been steerinjjr; when the hunter lifted liis oar, and said: 

“There! let the canoe run on alone, a while, and give me 
your attention. Now, you see,” he continued, pointing inshore 
to the right, “ you see that opening in the woods, yonder, on the 
southern slope extending down nc/iir the lake, eighty rods or 
such a matter off, don’t you? Well, that, and divers other 
openings, where the timber has been cut down and burnt over, 
for planting corn, scattered about in the woods in different 
places, as well as a large tract of the surrounding forest-land, 
are the possessions of the chief.” 

“ But where is their house?” 

“ Down near the lake, among the trees. You can’t see 
much of it, but it is a smart, comfortable house, like one of our 
houses, and built by a carpenter ; for the chief used formerly 
to handle considerable money, got by the furs caught by him- 
self, and by the profits on the furs he bought of the St. Fran- 
cis Indians, who came over this way to hunt. But stay: there 
are some of the family at his boat-landing. I think it must be 
I^luella and her Indian half-brother. She is waving a hand- 
kerchief towards us. Let us wait and see what she wants.” 

The female, whose trim figure, English-fashioned dress, and 
grr.ceful motions went to confirm the hunter’s conjectures, now 
appeared to turn and give some directions to the boy, who im- 
mediately disappeared, but in a few minutes came back, en- 
tered a canoe, and put off towards the spot where our two 
voyagers were resting on their oars. In a short time the canoe 
came up, rowed by an ordinary Indian boy of about fourteen, 
who, pulling alongside, held up a neatly-made, new, wampum- 
trimmed hunting pouch, and said: 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 169 

“The chief send this Mr. Claud El wood, — gift. Fluella 
say, wish Mr. Phillips and Mr. Claud Elwood good time.” 

And so saying, and tossing the article to Claud, he wheeled 
his canoe around, and, without turning his head or appearing 
to hear the compliments and thanks that both the hunter and 
Claud told him to take to the chief and his daughter, sped his 
way back to the landing. 

“ There, young man ! ” exclaimed the obviously gratified 
hunter, “ that is a present, with a meaning. I would rather 
have it, coming as it does from an Indian, and that Indian 
such a man as the chief, — I would rather have it, as a pledge 
of watchfulness over your interests in the settlement, whether 
you are present there or absent, — than a white man’s bond for 
a hundred dollars ; and I would also rather have it, as a token 
of faith, given when you are roaming this northern wilderness, 
than a passport from the king of England. The chief’s Totem, 
the bald eagle, is woven in, I see, among the ornaments. Every 
Indian found anywhere from the great river of Canada to the 
sea eastward will know and respect it, and know, likewise, how 
to treat the man to whom it was given.” 

“ But how,” asked Claud, “ could stranger Indians, whom I 
encountered, know to whom it was given, or that I did not find, 
buy, or steal the article ? ” 

“ Let an Indian alone for that. You have but three fingers 
on your left hand, I have noticed.” 

“ Ti*ue, the little finger was accidentally cut clean off by an 
axe, wlien I was a child; but what has that to do with the 
question?” 

“ Enough to settle it. Do you notice something protruding 
as if from under the protecting wing of the eagle of the Totem, 
there ? ” 

“ Yes ; and surely enough it resembles a human hand, with 
onlj' three fingers.” 

“ That is it ; and you may yet, in your experiences in these 


170 GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

rou^h and sometimes dangerous wilds, know the value of that 
gift.” 

“At any rate, I feel gratified at this mark of the chiefs good 
will ; the more because 1 was so little expecting it, espe- 
cially at this time. How could thjsy have possibly made out 
who I, or indeed either of us, was, at such a distance ? ” 

“ A very natural inquiry, but answered when I tell you that 
Fluella has a good spy -glass, that a year or two ago she brought, 
among other curious trinkets, from her other home in the old 
settlement. And she makes it often serve a good purpose, too. 
She has spied out, for her father’s killing, many a moose or 
deer that had come down to the edge or into the vvater of the 
lake round the shores to drink, eat wild-grass, or cool tliem- 
selves, as well as many a flock of wild geese, lighting here on 
their fall or spring passages. She knew, 1 think, about the day 
we were to start, and, being on the lookout, saw the rest of‘ our 
company passing off here to the west, an hour or two ago, and, 
not seeing us among them, expected us to be along somewhere 
in this direction. Now, is all explained?” 

“ Yes, curiously but satisfactorily.” 

“ Then, only one word more on the subject : let me advise 
you not to show that hunting-pouch when we join the company, 
nor wear it till we are off on our separate ranges. I have my 
reasons, but mustn’t be asked to give them.” 

“ All this is odd, Mr. Phillips ; but, taking it for granted that 
your i*easons are good ones, I will comply with your advice.” 

“ Very well. The whole matter being now disposed of, let 
us move on round the point, and into the large cove we shall 
find round there. We mustn’t give up about game so. No 
knowing what may yet be done in that line.” 

Having risen to his feet, raised his hunting-cap, and bowed 
his adieu to the still lingering maiden on shore, Claud now 
joined his com})anion at the oars ; when they rapidly passed 
round the headland, and soon entered the bay-like recess of 
water^ which, sweeping round in a large wood-fringed circle, 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


171 


opened upon the view immediately beyond. After skirting 
along the sometimes bold and rocky, and sometimes low and 
swampy, thickly- wooded shore, with a sharp lookout for what- 
ever might come within range of the eye, but without stopping 
for any special examination till they had reached the most se- 
cluded part of the cove, the hunter suspended his oar, and sig- 
nified his intention of landing. Accordingly, running in their 
canoe by the side of an old treetop extending into the water, 
and, throwing their mooring-line around one of its bare limbs, 
they stepped noiselessly ashore, and ascended the bank, when 
the hunter, pausing and pointing inward, said, in a low, sup- 
pressed tone : 

“ There, within a short distance* from us, commences one of 
the thickest windfall jungles in these parts, and extends up 
nearly to the ehief’s outermost cornfield, about half a mile off. 
I have been threatening to come here some time ; and if, as I 
will [x-opose, we go into the tangle, and get through, or half 
through, without encounter of some kind, I confess I shall be 
uncommonly disap|)ointed. But, before entering, let us sit 
down on this old log a few minutes, and, while looking to our 
flints and priming, keep our ears open for such sounds as may 
reach them.” 

And, bending low his head, with closed eyes, and an ear 
turned towards the thicket, the hunter listened long and intently 
in motionless silence, after which he quickly rose, and, while 
glancing at his gun-flint and priming, said : 

“ There are no distinct sounds, but the air is disturbed in the 
kind of way that I have frequently noticed when animals of 
some size were in the vicinity. Let' us forward into the 
thicket, spreading out some ten rods apart, and worming our- 
selves among the windfalls, with a stop and a thorough look 
every few rods of our progress. Should you start up a pan- 
ther, which ain’t very likely, you had better whistle for me, 
before firing ; but, if any thing else, blaze away at it.” 

Nodding his assent, and starting off in a course diverging to 


172 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

the right of the one he perceived his companion to be taking, 
Claud slowly, and as he best could, made his way forward, 
sometimes crawling under, and sometimes clambering over the 
tangled masses of fallen trees, which, with a thick upshooting 
second growth, lay piled and crossed in all conceivable sha|)es 
and directions before him. After proceeding in this manner 
thirty or forty rods, he paused, for the third or fourth time, to 
look and listen; but lastly quite -as much for his companion 
as for game, for, with all his powers, he could detect no sound 
indicating that the latter could be anywhere in the vicinity. 
While thus engaged, he heard a small, shrill, plaintive sort of 
cry, as of a little child, coming from somewhere above him ; 
when, casting up his eyes, he beheld a large raccoon sidling 
round a limb, and seemingly winking and nodding down to- 
wards him. With the suppressed exclamation of “ Far better 
than nothing,” lie brought his piece to his face and fired ; when 
the glimpse of a straight-falling body, and the heavy thump on 
the ground that followed, told him that the object of his aim 
was a “ dead coon^^ But his half-uttered shout of exultation 
was cut short by the startling report of a rifle, a little distance 
to the rear, on his left. And the next moment a huge old 
bear, followed by a smaller one, came smashing and teai*ing 
through the brusli and tree-tops directly towards him. And 
with such headlong speed did the frightened brutes advance 
upon him, that he had scarce time to draw his clubbed rifle 
before the old one had broke into the little open space where 
he stood, and thrown herself on her haunches, in an attitude of 
angry defiance. Recoiling a step in the only way he could 
move, and expecting the next moment to find himself within 
the fatal grasp of the bear, if he did not disable her, Claud 
aimed and struck with all his might a blow at her head. But, 
before the swiftly-descending implement reached its mark, it was 
struck by the fending paw of the enraged brute, with a force 
that sent its tightly-grasping owner spinning and floundering 
into the entangled brushwood, till he landed prostrate on the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


173 


groiincl. And, ore he had time to turn himself, the desperate 
animal liad rushed and trampled over him, and disappeared 
through a breach effected in one of the treetcps tliat Iiad 
hemmed him in and prevented his retreat from such a doubtful, 
hand-to-hantl encounter. As the discomfited young liuntsman 
was rising to Iiis feet, liis eyes fell iii)on Phillips, hurrying for- 
ward. with looks of lively concern ; which, however, as he 
leaped into the small open space comprising the battle-gi’ound, 
and saw how matters stood, at first gave j)lace to a ludicrous 
smile, and then to a merry peal of laughter. 

“ I can’t say I blame you much for your merriment,” said 
Claud, joining, though rather feebly, in the laugh, sus he biaished 
himself and |)icked u[) his rifle; “for, to be upset and run over 
by a b<*ar would have been about the last thing 1 should have 
dreamed of myself.” 

“ O well,” said the other, checking his risibles, “ it had better 
turn out a laughing tlum a crying matter, as it might have done 
if you had kept your footing; for, if you had not been over- 
thrown and run over, you would have probably, in this cramped- 
up ])!ace, stood up to be hugged and scratched in a way not so 
\ery agreeable ; and I rather guess, under the circumstances, 
you may as well call yourself satisfied to quit so ; for the bears 
have left you with a whole skin and unbroken ribs, though 
they have esca[)ed themselves where, with our time, it will be 
useless to follow them. But, if you had not fired just as you 
did, we would have had all three of them.” 

“ What! have you killed one?” asked Claud, in surprise. 

“ To be sure I have,” answered the hunter. “ Then you 
supf)osed it was one of your rough visitors I fired at, and 
missed ? No, no. I had got one of the black youngsters in 
rang(‘, and was waiting for a chance at the old one, knowing if 
I killed liei- first the young ones would take to the trees, where 
they could easily be brought down. Seeing them, however, on 
the point of running at the report of your rifle, ! let drive at 
the only one 1 was sure of; when the two others, they being 


174 


GAUT GURLEY. 


nearly between us, tacked about and ran towards you. But go 
get your ’coon, and come along this way, to look at my black 
beauty.” 

“ IIow did you know I had killed a ’coon ? ” inquired the 
other. 

“ Heard him squall before you fired, then strike the ground 
afterwards with a force that I thought must have killed him, 
whether your bullet had or not,” replied the hunter, moving off 
for his bear, with which, tugging it along by a hind leg, he 
soon joined Claud, who was threading his way out with his 
mottled trophy swung over his shoulder. 

“ Why, a much larger one than I supposed,” exclaimed the 
latter, tui-ning and looking at the cub; “ really, a fine one!” 

“ Ain’t he, now ? ” complacently said the hunter. “ There, 
heft him ; must weigh over half a hundred, and as fat as but- 
ter, — for which he is doubtless indebted to the chiefs cornfield. 
And I presume we may say the same of that streaked squaller 
of yours, which I see is an uncommonly large, plump fellow. 
Well,” continued the speaker, shouldering the cub, “ we may 
now as well call our hunt over, for to-day, — out of this plaguey 
hole as soon as we can, and over the lakes to camp, as fast as 
strong arms and good oars can send us.” 

On, after reaching and pushing off their now well-freighted 
canoe, on, — along the extended coast-line of this wild lake, 
westward to the great inlet, up the gently inflowing waters of 
that broad, cypress-lined stream, to the Maguntic, and then, 
tacking eastward, around the borders of that still wilder and 
more secluded lake, — on, on, they sped for hours, until the 
ringing of the axe-fall, and the lively echo of human voices in 
the woods, apprised them of their near apf)roach to the *"pot 
which their companions had selected, both for their night’s rest 
and permanent head- quarters for the season. 


CHAFTEE XITI. 


** Arifl now tlicir hntchets, with rcsoundinp^ strolce, 

Jlew’d down the l)osca;re tliat around them rose, 

And tlie dry pine of brittle l)ranches l)roke. 

To yield them fuel for the ni^xht’s repose ; 

• ' The gathere<l heap an ample store bespoke. 

They snnte the steel : the tinder l)rijrhtly ^lows, 

And the Hrcd match the kindleci Hames awoke. 

And li;xht upon nijrht’s seared darkness broke. 

Hi;rh branch’d the pines, and far the colonnade 
Of taperinj; trunks stood jxlimmering through the glen; 

So joyed tlie hunters in their lonely glade.” 

“ Hurra! the stragglers have arrived ! ” exclaimed Codman, 
the first to notice the hunter and Claud as they shot into the 
mouth of the small, quiet river, on whose bank was busily pro- 
gres.sing the work of the incipient encampment. “ Hurra for 
the arrival of the goo*! ship Brag, Phillips, master; but where 
is his black duck, with a big trout to its foot ? Ah, ha ! not 
forthcoming, hey ? Kuk-kuk-ke-oh-o ! ” 

“ Don’t crow till you see what I have got, Mr. Trapper,” 
replied the hunter, running in his canoe by the sides of those 
of his companions on shore. “Don’t crow yet, — especially 
over the failure of what I didn’t undertake: you or Mr. Carvil 
was to furnish the big trout, you will recollect.” • 

“ That has b.een attended to by me, to the satisfaction of 
the company, I rather think,” remarked Carvil, now advancing 
towards the bank with the rest. “ Not only one big trout, but 
two more with it, wjis drawn in by my method, on the way.” 

“O, accident, accident!” waggishly rejoined the trapper; 
“they were hooked by mere accident. The fact is, the trouts 

( 175 ) 


17G 


GAUT GURLEY; OB, 


are so thick in these lakes that a hook and line can’t be drawn 
such a distance through them without getting into some of 
their mouths. But, allowing it otherwise, it don’t cure but half 
of your case, Mr. Hunter. Where is the black duck ? ” 

“ Here is the black duck,” responded the hunter, stepping 
ashore and drawing his cub out from under some screening 
boughs in the bow of the boat. 

A lively shout of laughter burst 'from the lips of the com- 
pany at the disclosure, showing alike their amusement at the 
practical way in which the hunter had turned the jokes of the 
teasing tra})per, and their agreeable surprise at his luck in the 
uncertain hunting cruise along the shores, on which they, wiGi- 
out any expectation of his success, had banteringly dispatched 
him. “Ah, I think you may as well give up beat, all round, 
Mr. Codman,” observed Mark Elwood, after the surprise and 
laughter had subsided. “ But come up here, neighbor Phillips, 
and see what a nice place we are going to have for our camp.” 

Leaving the game in charge of Claud and Carvil, who 
volunteered to dress it, the rest of the company walked up 
with the hunter to the spot where the new shanty was in pro- 
gress, wishing to hear his opinion of the location selected, and 
the plan on which it had been commenced. 

The location to which the company had been guided by the 
trapper was a level space, about ten rods back from the stream 
here falling into the lake from the east, and at the foot of a 
rocky acclivity forming a portion of the southern side of a high 
ridge that ran down to the lake. The first ten feet of the rise 
was formed by the smooth, even face of a perpendicular rock,, 
which fj-om thp narrow shelf at the top fell off into a less i)re- 
cipitous ascent, extending up as far as the eye could reach 
among the stunted evergreens and other low bushes that j)ar- 
tially covered it. About a dozen u.et in front of this abutting 
rock, equidistant from it, and some fifteen feet apart, stood 
two spruce trees, six or eight inches in diameter at the bottom, 
but tall, and tapering towards the top. These, the company^ 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


177 


who had reached the place about two hours before, had con- 
trived, by rolling up some old logs to stand on, to cut off, and 
fell, six or seven feet from the ground; so that the tall stumps 
might serve for the two front posts of the proposed structure. 
And, having trimmed out the tops of the two fallen trees, and 
cut them into the required lengths, they had laid them from 
the top of the rock to the tops of the stumps, which had been 
first grooved out, so as to receive and securely fasten the ends 
of the timbers. These, with the stout poles which they had 
then cut and laid on transversely, at short intervals, made a 
substantial framework for the roof of the shantee. And, in 
addition to this, rows of side and front posts had been cut, 
sharpened, driven into the ground at the bottom, and securely 
fastened at the top to the two rafters at the sides and the 
principal beam, which had been notched into them at the lower 
ends to serve for the front plate. 

“.Just the spot,” said the hunter, after running his eye over 
and around the locality a moment, and then going up and in- 
specting the structure in progress. “ I thought Codman could 
not miss so remarkable a place. I have been thinking of 
building a camp here for several years ; but it never seemed to 
come just right till this fall. Why, you all must have worked 
like beavers to get along with the job so well, and to do it so 
thoroughly. The bones of the thing are all now up, as far as 
I can see, and made strong enough to withstand all the snows 
and blows of half a dozen winters. So, now, nothing remains 
but to put on the bark covering.” 

“But how are we to get the bark covering?” asked Gaut 
Gurley. “Bark will not peel well at this season, will it?” 

“ No, not very well, 1 suppose,” replied the former. “ But 
I will see what I can do towards hunting up the material, 
tc-morrow. A coat of these spruce boughs, spread over this 
framework above, and set up here against the sides, will 
answer for to-night. And this rigging up, gathering hendock 
boughs for our beds, building a good fire here in front, and 


178 


GAUT GURLEY; OB, 

cooking the supper, are all we had better think of attempting 
this evening ; and, as it is now about sunset, let us divide off 
the labor, and go at it.” 

The encampment of these adventurous woodsmen presented, 
for the next hour, a stirring and animated scene. The different 
duties to be performed having been apportioned by mutual 
agreement among the company, they proceeded with cheerful 
alacrity to the performance of their respective tasks. Phillips 
and Carvil set busily to work in covering, inclosing, and rigging 
up the camp, — to adopt the woodsman’s use of that word, as we 
notify the critic we shall do, as often as we please, albeit that 
use, contrary to Noah Webster, indicates the structure in which 
men lodge in the woods, rather than the place or company 
encamping. Mark Elwood, Gaut Gurley, and the young 
Indian Tomah, proceeding to a neighboring windfall of different 
kinds of wood, went to work in cutting and drawing up a sup- 
ply of fuel, among which, the accustomed backlog, forestick, 
and intermediate kindling-wood, being adjusted before the 
entrance of the camp, the fire from the smitten steel and pre- 
serving punkwood was soon crackling and throwing around its 
ruddy glow, as it more and more successfully competed with 
the waning light of the departing day. Claud and Codman, in 
fulfilment of their part of the business on hand, then unpacked 
the light frying-pans, laid in them the customary slices of fat 
salted pork, and shortly had them sharply hissing over the fire, 
preparatory to receiving respectively their allotted quotas of 
the tender and nutritious bearstealcs, or the broad layers of the 
rich, red-meated trout. 

In a short time the plentiful contents of the pans were 
thoroughly cooked, the pans taken from the fires, the potatoes 
raked from the glowing embers, in which they had been roast- 
ing under the forestick, the brown bread and condiments bi-ought 
forward, and all placed upon the even face of a broad, thin sheet 
of cleft rock, which they had luckily found in the adjacent ledge, 
and brought forward and elevated on blocks within the camp, to 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


179 


eerve, as it well did, for their sylvan table. Gathering round 
this, they proceeded to help themselves, with their camp knives 
and rude trenchers, split from blocks of the freely-cleaving bass- 
wood, to such kinds and portions of the savory viands, smoking 
so invitingly in the pans before them, as their inclinations sever- 
ally prompted. Having done this, they drew back to seats on 
broad chips, blocks of wood, piles of boughs, or other objects 
nearest at hand, and began upon their long anticipated meal 
with a gusto which made them for a while too busy for conver- 
sation, other than an occasional brief remark on the quality of 
the food, or some jocose allusion to the adventures of the day. 
After they had finished their repast, however, and cleared away 
the relics of the supper, together with the few utensils they had 
used in cooking and eating it, they replenished their fire ; and, 
while the cheerful light of its fagot-fed blaze was flashing up 
against the dark forest around, and shooting away through the 
openings of the foliage in long glimmering lines over the waters 
below, they all placed themselves at their ease, — some sitting on 
blocks, so)ne leaning against the posts, and some reclining on 
piles of boughs, — and commenced the social confab, or that gen- 
eral conversation, in which woodsmen, if they ever do, are prone 
to indulge after the fatigues of the day are over, and the conse- 
quent demands of appetite have been appeased by a satisfactory 
meal. 

“ Now, gentlemen, I will make a proposition,” said Mark 
El wood, in a pause of the conversation, which, though it had 
had been engaged in with considerable spirit, yet now began to 
flag. “ I will propose, as we have an hour or two on hand, to 
be spent somehow, before we shall think of rolling ourselves up 
in our blankets for the night, — I propose that you professional 
hunters, like Phillips, Codman,and Carvil, here, each give us a 
story of one of your most remarkable adventures in the woods. 
It would not only while away the hour pleasantly for us all, but 
might furnish useful information and timely hints for us begin- 
ners in this new life, upen which we are about to enter. For my 


180 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


part, I should like to listen to a story, by these old witnesses, of 
the strange things they must have encountered in the woods. 
What say 3’^ou, Gurley, Claud, and Tomah? Shall we put 
them on the stand?” 

“ Yes, a good idea,” replied Gaut, his habitual cold reserve 
relaxing into something like cordiality; “I feel just in the 
humor to listen, — more so than to talk, on this hearty supper. 
Yes, by all means let us have the stories.” 

“ O, I should be exceedingly gratified,” joined in Claud, in 
his usual frank and animated manner. 

“ I like that, too ; like to hear hunting story, always, much,” 
added Tomah, with a glistening eye. 

“Well, no particular objection as far as I am concerned,” 
responded the trapper, seriously ; but adding, with his old wag- 
gish gleam of the eye : “ that is, if you will take what I give, 
and swallow it as easily as you did Phillips’ fish story. But let 
Carvil, who must be the youngest, go on with his story first ; I 
will follow ; and Phillips shall bring up the rear.” 

Carvil, after making a few excuses that were not suffered to 
avail him, commenced his narration, which we will head 

THE AMATEUR WOODSMAN’S STORY. 

“ I call myself a woodsman, and a pretty good one, now ; but, 
four years ago, I was almost any thing else but one of any kind. 
I should have then thought it would have certainly been the 
death of me to have lain out one night in the woods. And I 
had no more idea of ever becoming a hunter or trapper, to re- 
main out, as I have since done, for weeks and months in the 
depths of the wilderness, with no other protection than my rifle, 
and no other shelter than what I could fix up with my hatchet 
for the night, where I happened to be, on the approach of 
darkness, than I now have of undertaking to swim the Atlantic. 
And, as the circumstances which led to this revolution in my 
opinions and habits, when out of the woods, may as much im 
terest you, in the account, as any thing that happened to me 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG» 


181 


after T got into them, I will first briefly tell you how I came 
to be a woodsman, and then answer your call by relating a 
hunting incident which occurred to me after I became one; 
which, if not very marvellous, shall, at least, have the merit of 
truth and reality. 

“ I was brought up rather tenderly, as to work ; and my 
parents, absurdly believing that, with my then slight frame, any 
employment requiring any labor or physical exertion would in- 
jure me, put me to study, and assisted me to the means of 
entering college at eighteen, and of graduating at twenty-two. 
Well, I did not misimprove my opportunies for knowledge, I 
believe ; but, instead of gaining strength and manhood by my 
exemption from labor, I grew feebler and feebler. Still, I did 
not know what was wanting to give me health and constitution, 
nor once think that a mind without a body is a thing not worth 
having ; and so I went on, keeping within doors and studying a 
profession, until I found myself a poor, nervous, miserable dyspep- 
tic, and threatened with consumption. It was now plain enough 
that, if I would avoid a speedy death, something must be done ; 
and, by the advice of the doctors, who were about as ignorant 
of the philosof)hy of health as myself, I concluded to seek a 
residence and livelihood in one of the Southern States. Ac- 
cordingly, I packed up and took stage for Boston, timing my 
journey so as to get there the day before the ship, on which I 
had previously ascertained I could find a passage, was to sail 
for Savannah. But, the morning after I arrived, a severe storm 
came on, and the sailing of the ship was deferred till the next 
day ; so, having nothing to do, knowing nobod)^ to talk with, 
and the weather being too stormy to go out to see the city, I 
took to my solitary room in the hotel, where, fortunately, there 
were neither books noi papers to prevent me from thinking. 
And I did think, that day, almost for the first time in my life, 
without the trammels of fashionable book-theories, and more ef- 
fectually than I had ever done before. I had a favorite classmate 
in college, whose name was Silas Wright, who had a mind that 


182 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


penetrated, like light, every thing it was turned upon, and who 
never failed to see the truth of a matter, though his towering 
ambition sometimes prevented him from following tlie path 
where it led. In recalling, as I was pacing the floor that 
gloomy day, my old college friends and their conversation, I hap- 
pened to think of what Wright once said to me on the subject 
of health and long life. 

“ ‘ Carvil,’ said he, ‘ did you know that we students were 
committing treason against the great laws of life which God has 
laid down for us ?* 

“‘No.’ 

Well, we are. Man was made for activ’e life, and in the 
open air.* 

“ ‘ But you, it seems, are not observing the theory about which 
you are so positive ? ’ 

“ ‘ No, and don’t intend to. To observe that, 1 must relin- 
quish all thought of mounting the professional and political 
ladder, even half way to the mark I must and will reach. I 
have naturally a strong constitution, and I calculate it will 
last, with the rapid mounting I intend, till I reach the top 
round, and that is all that I care for. But I shall know, all the 
while, that I am going up like a rocket, whose height and bril- 
liancy are only attained by the certain and i-apid wasting of the 
substance that composes it. But the case is diflerent with 
you, Carvil. You Iiave a constitution yet to make, or your 
rocket will go out, before you can get high enough, in these days 
of jostling and severe competition, to warrant the attempt of 
mounting at all.’ 

“ Such was one of Wright’s intuitive grasps at the truth, hid 
under the false notions of the times, or the artificial theories of 
books, which he was wasting his life to master, and ol'ten only 
mastering to despise. And I, being now earnestly in search of 
the best means of health, eagerly caught at his notion,^ which 
placed the matter in a light in which I had never before seri- 
ously viewed it, and, indeed, struck me with a force that soon 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


183 


brought me to a dead stand in all mj calculations for the future. 
‘ What is it,’ thought I, running into a sort of mental dia- 
logue with myself, and calling in what little true science I had 
learned, to aid me in fully testing the soundness of the notion, 
before I finally gave in to it; ‘what is it that hardens the mus- 
cles, and com[)acts the human system ? ’ — ‘ Thorough exercise, 
and constant use.’ — ‘ Can these be had in the study-room ? ’ 
‘ INo.’ — ‘And what is the invigorating and fattening principle 
of the air we breathe ? ’ — ‘ Oxygen.’ — ‘ Can this be had in the 
close or artificially-heated room ? ’ — ‘ No, except in stinted and 
uncertain jiroportions. It can be breathed in the open fields, 
but much more abundantly in the woods.’ — ‘ Well, what do I 
need ? ’ — ‘ Only hardening and invigorating.’ — ‘ But shall I go 
to the relaxing clime of the South for this ? ’ — ‘ No ; the north- 
ern wilderness were a hundred times better.’ — ‘ It is settled, 
then.’ — ‘ Landlord,’ I cried aloud, as I saw that personage at 
that moment passing by my partly open door, ‘ when does the 
first stage, going north, start ? ’ 

‘ In twenty minutes, and from my door.’ 

‘ Order on my luggage, here ; make out your bill ; and I 
will be on hand.’ 

“And I was on hand at the time, and the next hour on my 
way home , which I duly reached, but only to start off immedi- 
ately to the residence of a hunter acquaintance, a dozen miles 
off, who, I knew, was about to start for the head-waters of the 
Connecticut, on his annual fall hunting expedition. I found 
him, joined him, and within ten days was entering, with pack 
and rifle, the unbroken wilderness, by his side, though with 
many misgivings. But my first night out tested and settled 
the matter forever. We had had a fatiguing march, at least to 
me, and the last part of it in the rain. We had to hi} down in 
a leaking camp, and I counted myself a dead man. But, to 
my astonishment, I awoke the next morning, unhurt, and even 
feeling better than I had for a month. And I constantly grew 
better mid hardier, through that and my next year’s cam- 


184 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


paign in that region, and through the two succeeding ones 1 
made on the Great Meguntic ; where the incident which I pro- 
pose to relate to you, it being my best strike in moose-hunting, 
occurred, and which happened in this wise: 

“It was a raw, gloomy day in November, and I had been 
lazily lying in my solitary camp, on the borders of this mag- 
nificent lake, nil the forenoon. But, after dinner, I began to 
feel a little more like action, and soon concluded I would ex- 
plore a sort of creek-looking stream, four or five rods wide, 
which I had noticed entering the lake about a mile off, but which 
I had never etitered. Accordingly, I loaded my rifle, took my 
powder-horn, |)ut two spare bullets in my vest-pocket, not sup- 
posing I could have use for more, entered my canoe, and pulled 
leisurely away for the place. After re^iching and entering this 
sluggish sti-eam, I went on paddling and pushing my way along 
through and under the overhanging bushes and treetops, some- 
tliing like half a mile, when I came to higher banks and a series 
of knolls jutting down to the stream, which, with frequent 
sharp curves and crooks, wound its way among them. On turn- 
ing one of these sharp points, my eyes suddenly encountered a 
sight that made my heart jump. On a high, open, and almost 
bare bluff, directly before me, and not fifteen rods distant, stood 
two tremendous moose, as unconcernedly as a pair of oxen 
chewing their cuds, or dozing in a pasture. The last was 
unusually large, the biggest a monster, appearing, to my wide- 
opened eyes, with his eight or nine foot height, and ten or eleven 
foot spread of antlers, as he stood up there against the sky, 
like some reproduced mastodon of the old legends. Quietly 
falling back and running in under a screening treetop, I pulled 
down a branch and put in under my foot to hold and steady my 
canoe. When I raised my rifle, I aimed it for the heart of the 
big moose, and fired. But, to my great surprise, the animal 
never stirred nor moved a muscle. Supposing I had somehow 
unaccountably missed hitting him, even at all, I fell, with ner- 
vous haste, to reloading my piece ; and, having got all right, 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


185 


I supposed, I raised it this time towards the smaller moose, 
standing a little nearer and presenting a fairer mark ; took a 
long and careful aim, and again let drive ; but again without 
the least effect. Utterly confounded to have missed a second 
time, with so fair a shot, I stood half confused a moment, first 
querying whether something was not the matter with my eyes, 
and then thinking of stories I had heard of witclies turning 
away bullets from their object. But I soon mechanically began to 
load up again ; and, having got in my powder, I put my hand 
in my pocket for a bullet, when I found there both the balls I 
had brought with me from camp, and consequently knew that, 
in my eager haste in loading for my last shot, I had neglected 
to put in any bullet at all ! But I now put in the bullet, looked 
at it after it was entered, to make sure it was there, and then 
felt it all the way down, till I had rammed it home. I then 
raised the luckless piece once more, uncertain at first which of 
the two moose I should take, this time. But, seeing the smaller 
one beginning to move his head and lay back his horns, which 
I well enough knew was his signal for running, I instantly 
decided to take kim^ took a quick, good aim, and fired. With 
three dashing bounds forward, the animal plunged headlong to 
the ground. Knowing that one to be secure, at least, I then 
turned my attention to the big one. To my astonishment, he was 
still there, and, notwithstanding all the firing, had not moved an 
inch. But, before I got loaded for another trial upon him, I 
looked up again, when a motion in his body had become plainly 
visible. Presently he began to sway to and fro, like a rocking 
tower, and, the next moment, went over broadside, with a thun- 
dering crash, into the bushes. ]\Iy first shot, it appeared, had, 
after all, done the business, having pierced his lungs and caused 
an inward flow of blood, that stopped his breath at the time he 
fell. All was now explained, except the wonder that such shy 
animals should stand so much firing without running. But 
the probability is, that, not seeing me, they took the reports of 
my rifle for some natural sound, such as that of thunder, or the 


186 


GAUT GURLEY; OS, 


falling of a tree ; while, perhaps, the great one, when he was 
hit, was too much paralyzed to mov'C, by the rupture of some 
important nerve. But, however that may be, 3'ou have tlie 
facts by which to judge for yourselves. And I have now only 
to add, that, having gone to the spot, bled, partially dressed the 
animals, and got them into a condition to be left, I went off to 
the nearest camps and rallied out help ; when, after mucli toil 
and tugging, we got the carcases home to my shant}% foi* pres- 
ent eating, curing, and distributing among the neighboring 
hunters, who soon flocked in to congratulate me on my singular 
good luck, and receive their ever freely-bestowed portions, an-d 
who unanimously pronounced my big prize the largest moose 
ever slain in all the regions of the Great Megantic.” 

THE TIlAPPETl’s STORY. 

“ My story,” commenced the trapper, who was next called on 
for his promised contribution to the entertainment of the evening, 
“m}' story is of a different character from the one you have just 
heard. It don’t run so much to the great and terrible as the 
small and curious. It may appear to you perhaps a little queer, 
in some parts ; but which, after the modest drafts that have been 
made on my credulity, you will, of course, have the good man- 
ners to believe. It relates to an adventure in beaver-hunting, 
which 1 met with, many years ago, on Moosehead Lake, where 
I served my apprenticeship at trapping. I had establishc^d 
myself in camp, the last of August, about the time the beavers, 
after having coilected in communities, and established their 
never-failing democratic government, generally get fairly at 
work on their dams and dwelling-houses, for the ensuing cold 
months, in places along the small streams, which they have 
looked out and decided on for the pur[)ose. I was thus early 
on the ground, in order to have time, before I went to other 
hunting, to look up the localities of the different societies, so 
that 1 need not blunder on them and disturb them, in the cliase 
for other animals, and so that I should know where to find 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


187 


them, when their fur got thick enough to warrant the onslaught 
upon them which I designed to make. 

“ In hunting for these localities in the vicinity around me, 1 
soon unexpectedly discovered marks of what I thought must 
be a very promising one, situated on a small stream, not over 
half a mile in a bee-line over the hills from my camp. When 
I discovered the place, — as I did from encountering, at short 
intervals in the woods, two wolverines, always the great enemy 
and generally the prowling attendant of assembled beavers, — 
these curious creatures had just begun to lay the foundation of 
their dam. And the place being so near, and the nights moon- 
light, I concluded I would go over occasionally, evenings, — the 
night being the only time when they can ever be seen engaged 
on their work, — and see if I could gain some covert near the 
bank, where, unperceived, I might watch their operations, and 
obtain some uew knowledge of their habits, of which I might 
thereafter avail myself, when the season for hunting them 
arrived. Accordingly, I went over that very evening, in the 
twilight, secured a favorable lookout, and laid in wait for the 
appearance of the beavers. Presently I was startled by a loud 
rap, as of a small paddle struck flatwise on the water, then an- 
other, and another, in quick succession. It was the signal of 
the master workman, for all the workers to leave their hiding- 
places in the banks, and repair to their labors in making the 
dam. The next moment the whole stream seemed to be alive 
with the numbers in motion. I could hear them, sousing and 
plunging in the water, in every direction, — then swimming and 
pufiing across or up and down the stream, — then scrambling 
up the banks, — then the auger-like sound of their sharp teeth, 
at work on the small trees, — then soon the falling of the trees, 
— then the rustling and tugging of the creatures, in getting the 
fallen trees out of the water, — and, finally, the surging and 
splashing with which they came swimming towards the ground- 
work of the dam, with the butt end of those trees in their 
mouths. The line of the dam they had begun, passed with a 


188 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


curve up stream in tlie middle, so as to give it more strength to 
resist the current ; across the low- water bed of the river some 
five rods ; and extended up over the first low bank, about as much 
farther, to a second and higher bank, which must have bounded 
the water at the greatest floods. They had already cut, 
drawn on, and put down, a double layer of trees, with their 
butts brought up evenly to the central line, and their tops point- 
ing in opposite directions, — those of one layer, or row, pointing 
up, and those of the other, down stream. Among and under 
this line of butts had been worked in an extra quantity of limbs, 
old wood, and short bushes, so as to give the centre an elevation 
of a foot or two, over the lowest part of the sides, which, of 
course, fell off considerably each way in the lessening of the 
tops of the trees, thus put down. Over all these they had 
plastered mud, mixed in with stones, grass, and moss, so thick as 
not only to hold down securely the bodies of the trees, but 
nearly conceal them from sight. , n 

“ Scarcely had I time to glance over these works, which I 
had not approached near enough to inspect much, before the 
beavers from below, and above came tugging along, by dozens 
on a side to the lower edges of their embankment, with the loads 
or rafts of trees which they had respectively drawn to the spot. 
Lodging these on the solid ground, with the ends just out of 
water, they relinquished their holds, mounted the slopes, paused a 
minute to take breath, and then, seizing these ends again, drew 
them, with the seeming strength of horses, out of the water and 
up to the central line on top ; laid the stems or bodies of the 
trees parallel, and as near together as they could be got ; and 
adjusted the butt ends, as I have stated they did with the 
foundation layers, so as to bring them to a sort of joint on the 
top. They then all went off for new loads, with the exception 
of a small squad, a part of which were still holding their trees 
in a small space in the dam, where the current had not been 
checked, and the other part bringing stones, till they had con- 
fined the trees down to the bottom, so that they would not be 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


189 


swept away. This task of filling the gap, however, after some 
severe struggling with the current, was before long accom* 
plished ; when those engaged upon it joined in the common work, 
in which they steadily persevered till this second double layer 
of trees, with the large quanties of short bushes which they 
brought and wove into the chinks, near the top, was com- 
pleted, through the whole length of their dam. They then col- 
lected along on the top of the dam, and seemed to hold a sort of 
consultation, after which they scattered for the banks of tlie 
stream, but soon returned, walking on their hind legs, and 
each bringing a load of mud or stones, held between his 
fore paws and throat. These loads were successively de- 
posited, as they came up, among the stems and interlacing 
branches of the trees and bushes they had just laid down, giving 
each deposited pile, as they turned to go back, a smart blow 
with the flat of their broad thick tails, producing the same 
sound as the one I have mentioned as the signal-raps for call- 
ing them out to work, only far less loud and sharp, since the 
former raps were struck on water, and the latter on mud oi 
rubbish. Thus they continued to work, — and work, too, with 
a will, if any creatures ever did, — till I had seen nearly the 
whole of the last layers plastered over. 

“Thinking now I had seen all that would be new and use- 
ful to me, I noiselessly crept away and returned to camp, to lay 
awake half the night, in my excitement, and to dream, the other 
half, about this magnificent society of beavers, whose numbers 
I could not make less than three dozen. I did not go to steal 
another view of the place for nearly a week, and then went in 
the daytime, there now being no moon, till late, — when, to my 
surprise, I found the dam finished, and the river flowed into a 
pond of several acres, while on each side, ranged along, one 
after another, stood three family dwellings in different states of 
progress ; some of them only rising to the surface of the water, 
showing the nature of the structure, which, you know, is built up 
with short, small logs, and mud, in a squarish form, of about the 


190 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


size of a large chimnej; while others, having been built up a 
foot or two above the water, and the windows fashioned, had 
been arched over with mud and sticks, and were already nearly 
finished. 

Knowing that the establishment was now so nearly com- 
pleted that the beavers would not relinquish it without being 
disturbed by the presence of a human foe, — which they will 
sometimes detect, I think, at nearly a quarter of a mile distance, 
— I concluded to keep entirely away from them till the time of 
my contemplated onslaught, which I finally decided to begin 
on one of the first days of the coming November. 

“Well, what with hunting deer, bear, and so on, for food, 
and lynx, otter, and sable, for furs, the next two months passed 
away, and the long anticipated November at length arrived ; 
when, one dark, cloudy day, having cut a lot of bits of green 
wood for bait, got out my vial of castor to scent them with, and 
got my steel traps in order, with these equipments and my 
rifle I set off, for the purpose of commencing operations, of some 
kind, on my community of beavers. On reaching the spot, I 
crept to my old covert with the same precautions I had used on 
my former visits, thinking it likely enough that, on so dark a 
day, some of the beavers might be out ; and, wishing to know 
how this was, before proceeding openly along the banks to 
look out the right j)laces to set my traps, I listened a while, but 
could hear no splashing about the pond, or detect any other 
sounds indicating that the creatures were astir ; but, on peering 
out, I saw a large, old beaver perched in a window of one of 
the beaver-houses on the opposite shore. I instinctively drew 
up my rifle, — for it was a fair shot, and I knew I could draw 
him, — but I forbore, and contented myself with watching his 
motions. I might have lain there ten minutes, perhaps, when 
this leader, or judge in the beaver Israel, as he soon showed 
himself to be, quietly slid out into the water, swam into a 
central part of the pond, and, after swimming twice or three 
times round in a small circle, lifted his tail on high, and slowly 


THE TRAPPERS OP- UMBAGOO. 


191 


and deliberately gave three of those same old loud and startling 
raps on the water. He then swam back to his cabin, and as- 
cended an open flat on the bank, where all the underb’’ush had 
been cut and cleared off in building the dam. In a few minutes 
more, a large number of beavers might be seen hastening to the 
spot, where they ranged themselves in a sort of circle, so as just 
to inclose the old beaver which came first, and which had now 
taken his stand on a little moss hillock, on the farther side of 
the little opening, to which he had thus called them, and, evi- 
dently, for some important public purpose. Soon another small 
band of the creatures made their appearance on the bank above, 
seeming to have in custody two great, lubberly, cowed-down 
looking beavers, that they were hunching and driving along, as 
legal officers sometimes have to do with their prisoners, when 
taking them to some dreaded punishment. When this last band 
reached the place, with these two culprit-looking fellows, they 
pushed them forward in front of the judge, as we will call him, 
and then fell into the ranks, so as to close up the circle. There 
was then a long, solemn pause, in which they all kept still in 
their places round the prisoners, which had crouched sneaking 
down, without stirring an inch from the places where they had 
been put. Soon, however, a great, fierce, gruff-appearing 
beaver left the ranks, and, advancing a few steps within them, 
reared himself on his haunches, and began to sputter and gibber 
away at a great rate, making his fore-paws go like the hatids 
of some over-heated orator ; now motioning respectfully towards 
the judge, and now spitefully towards the prisoners, as if he 
Mms making bitter accusations, and demanding judgment against 
them. After this old fellow had got through, two or three 
others, in turn, came forward, and appeared also to be holding 
forth about the matter, but in a far milder manner than the 
other, which I now began much to dislike for his spitefulness, 
and in the same proportion to pity the two poor objects of his 
evident malice. There w'as then another long and silent pause, 
after which, the judge proceeded to utter what appeared to be 


m 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


his sentence ; and, having brought it to a conclusion, he gave a 
rap with his tail on the ground. At this signal, the beavers 
in the ranks advanced, one after another, in rapid succession 
toward the prisoners, and, circling round them once, turned 
and gave each one of them a tremendous blow with their rails 
over the head and shoulders ; and so the heavy blows rapidly 
fell, whack, whack, whack, till every beaver had taken his j)art 
in the punishment, and till the poor prisoners keeled over, and 
lay nearly or quite dead on the ground. The judge beaver then 
quietly left his stand and went off ; and, following his example, 
all the rest scattered and disappeared, except the spiteful old 
fellow that had so raised my dislike, by the rancor he displayed 
in pressing his accusations, and, afterwards, by giving the cul- 
prits an extra blow, when it came his turn to strike them. He 
now remained on the ground till all the rest were out of sight, 
when, — as if to make sure of finishing what little remains of life 
the others, in their compunction, might have left in the victims, 
so as to give them, if they were not quite killed by the terrible 
bastinadoing they had received, a chance to revive and crawl 
off, — he ran up, and began to belabor them wdth the greatest 
fury over the head. This mean and malicious addition to the 
bid fellow’s previously unfair conduct was too much for me to 
witness, and I instantly drew my rifle and laid him dead beside 
the bodies he was so rancorously beating. Wading the stream 
below the dam, I hastened to my prizes, finished their last 
struggles with a stick, seized them by their tails, and dragged 
them to the spot I had just left; and then, after concealing my 
traps, with the view of W'aiting a few days before I set them, so 
as to give the society a chance to get settled, I tugged the game 
I had so strangely come by, home to camp, wdiere a more par- 
ticular examination showed them to be the thi'ee largest and 
best-furred beavers I had ever taken. 

“This brings me to the end of the unaccountable affair, and 
all I can say in explanation of it ; for how these creatures^ 
ingenious and knowing as they are, should have the intelligenoe 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


193 


to make laws, — as this case seems to pre-suppose, — get up a 
regular court, try, sentence, and execute offenders; what these 
offenders had done, — whether they were thievish interlopers 
from some other society, or whether they had committed some 
crime, such as burglary, bigamy, or adultery, or high treason, 
or whether they had been dishonest office-holders in the society 
and plundered the common treasury, is a mystery which you can 
solve as well as 1. Certainly you cannot be more puzzled than I 
have always been, in giving the matter a satisfactory explanation. 

“ And now, in conclusion, if you wish to know how I after- 
wards succeeded in taking more of this notable society of 
beavers, I have only to say, that, having soon commenced op- 
erations anew, I took, before I quit the ground that fall, by rifle, 
by traps, by digging or hooking them out of their hiding places 
in the banks, and, finally, by breaking up their dwelling-houses, 
twenty-one beavers in all; making the best lot which I ever had 
the pleasure of carrying out of the woods, and for which, a month 
or two after, I was paid, in market, one hundred and sixty- 
eight hard dollars.” 

THE OLD hunter’s STORY. 

I never but once,” commenced the hunter, who had an- 
nounced himself ready with the last story, when called on for 
that purpose by his comrades, after they had commented to 
their liking on the trapper’s strange adventure, — “ I never but 
once, in my whole life, became afraid of encountering a wild 
beast, or was too much unnerved in the presence of one to fire 
my rifle with certainty and effect. But that, in one event, I was 
in such a sorry condition for a hunter, I freely confess. And, 
as you called for our most remarkable adventures, and as the 
occurrence I allude to was certainly the most remarkable one 
I ever met with in my hunting experience, I will relate it for 
the story you assign me. 

“ It was about a dozen years ago, and on the borders of lake 
Parmagena, a squarish-shaped body of water, four or five miles 
13 


194 


GAtJT GURLEY; OR, 

in extent, lying twenty-five miles or so over* these mountains to 
the northwest of us, and making up the chief head-water of the 
river Magalloway. My camp was at the mouth of the principal 
inlet, and my most frequented hunting route up along its bank. 
On my excursions up that river, I had often noticed a deeply- 
wooded, rough, and singularly-shaped mountain, which, at the 
distance of four or five miles from the nearest point of the 
stream, westward, reared its shaggy sides over the surrounding 
wilderness, and which I thought must make one of the best 
haunts for bear and moose that I had seen in that region. So, 
once having a leisure day, and my fresh provisions being low, 
I concluded I would take a jaunt up to this mountain, think- 
ing that I should stand a good chance to find something there, 
or on the way, to replenish my larder. And accordingly I 
rigged up, after breakfast, and, setting my course in what I 
judged would prove a bee-line for the place, in order to save 
distance over the river route, I took up my march through the 
woods, without path, trail, or marked trees to guide me. 

“ After a rough and toilsome walk of about three hours, I 
reached the foot of the mountain of which I was in search, and 
seated myself on a fallen tree, to rest and look about me. The 
side of the eminence next to me was made up of a succession of 
rocky, heavily-timbered steeps and shelves, that rose like battle- 
ments before me, while, about midway, it was pierced or notched 
down by a dark, wild, thicket-tangled gorge, which extended 
along back up the mountain, as far as the eye could penetrate 
beneath, or overlook above the tops of the overhanging trees. 

To think of trying to ascend such steeps was out of the 
question ; and I was debating in mind whether I would at- 
tempt to go up through that forbidding and jooX'em/i-looking 
gorge, or, giving up the job altogether, strike off in the direc- 
tion of the river, and so go home that way, when a hideous 
yell, which brought me instantly to my feet, rose from an upper 
portion of the ravine, apparently about a hundred rods distant. 
I at once knew it came from a painter, or “ evil devil, ^ as the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


195 


Indians justly call that scourge and terror of the woods ; and, 
from the strength and volume of his voice, I also knew he 
must be a large one, while, from its savage sharpness, I fur- 
ther conjectured it must be a famine cry, which, if so, would 
show the animal to be a doubly ticklish one to encounter. 

“ Feeling conscious that it was but the part of wisdom k) 
avoid such an encounter as I should be likely to be favored 
with if I remained where I was, I soon moved off in an oppo- 
site direction, steering at once for the nearest point of the river, 
which was at the termination of a long, sharp sweep of the 
stream to the west, and nearer by a mile than in most other 
parts of its course. I had not proceeded more than a quarter 
of a mile before the same savage screech, — which was more 
frightful than I can describe, being seemingly made up of the 
mingling tones of a man’s and a woman’s voice, raised to the 
highest pitch in an agony of rage or pain, — the same awful 
screech, I say, rose and thrilled through the shuddering forest, 
coming this time, I perceived, from the mouth of the gorge, 
where the animal had so quickly arrived, found my trail, doubt- 
less, and started on in pursuit. I now, though still not really 
afraid, quickened my steps into a rapid walk, hoping that, now 
he had got out of the thickets of the ravine, he would not fol- 
low me far in the more open woods; yet thinking it best, at all 
events, to put what distance I could between him and me, 
without too much disturbing myself. Another of those terrific 
yells, however, coming from a nearer point than before, as fast 
as I had made my way from him, told me that the creature was 
on my tracks, and rapidly gaining on me in the race. I then 
started off at a full run ; but even this did not insure my escape, 
for I was soon startled by another yell, so near and fierce, that 
I involuntarily turned round, cocked my rifle, and stood on the 
defence. The next moment the animal met my sight, as he leaped 
up on to the trunk of a lodged tree, where he stood in open 
view, eagerly snuffing and glaring around him, about forty rods 
from the place where I had been brought to a stand, — revealing 


196 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


a monster whose size, big as I had conjectured it, perfectly 
amazed me. He could not have been much less than six feel 
from snout to tail, nor much short of nine, tail included. But 
for his bowed-up back, gaunter form, and mottled color, he 
might have passed for an ordinary lioness. The instant he 
saw me, he began nervously fixing his paws, rapidly swaying 
his tail, like a cat at the first sight of her intended prey, and 
giving other plain indications that he was intent on having 
me for his dinner. 

“I had my rifle to my shoulder: it was a fair shot, but still 
I hesitated about firing. My experience with catamounts, 
which, though of the same nature, are yet no more to be com- 
pared with a real panther, like this, than a common cur to a 
stout bulldog, had taught me the danger of wounding without 
killing them outright. If those were so dangerous under ordi- 
nary circumstances, what would this be, already bent on de- 
stroying me ? And should I stand, at that distance, an even 
chance to finish him., which could only be done by putting a 
ball through big brain, or spine, or directly through his heart ? 
I thought not. The distance was too great to be sure of any 
thing like that; and besides, my nerves, I felt, were getting a 
little unsteady, and I also found I was losing my faith, which is 
just the worst thing in the world for a hunter to lose. While 
I was thinking of all this, the creature leaped down, and, the 
next instant, I saw his head rise above the bushes, in his pro- 
digious bounds towards me. With that glance, I turned and 
ran ; ran as I never did before ; leaping over logs, and smashing 
headlong through brush and bushes, but still distinctly hearing, 
above all the noise I made, the louder crash of the creature’s 
footfalls, striking closer and closer behind me. All at once, 
however, those crashing sounds ceased to fall on my ear, and 
the thought that my pursuer had sprung one side into an am- 
bush, from whence he would pounce on me before I could see 
him, flashing over my mind, I suddenly came to a stand, and 
peered eagerly but vainly among the bushes around me for 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


197 


the crouching form of my foe. While thus engaged, a seeming 
shadow passing over the open space above caused me to glance 
upward, when, to my horror, I saw the monster coming down 
from a tree-top, with glaring eyes, open mouth, and outspread 
claws, directly upon me ! With a bound, which at any other 
time I should have been utterly incapable of making, I threw 
myself aside into the bushes just in time to escape his terrible 
embrace ; and, before he had rallied from the confusion caused 
by striking the ground and missing his prey, I had gained the 
distance of a dozen ix)ds, and thrown myself behind a large 
tree. But what was now to be done ? I knew, from his trotting 
about and snuffing to regain the sight and scent of me, which I 
could now distinctly hear, that he would soon be upon me. If 
I distrusted the certainty of my aim before this last fright, 
should I not do it much more now ? I felt so ; and, as I was 
now within a mile of the river, — where, if 1 could reach it, I 
thought it possible to find a way to baffie, at least, if I did not 
kill, my ruthless pursuer, — I concluded that my best chance 
for life was to run for the place. But, in peering out to 
ascertain the exact whereabouts of the painter before I 
started, my ear caught the sound of other and different foot- 
steps ; and the next moment I had a glimpse of a bear’s 
head, bobbing up and down in his rapid course through the 
bushes, as he ran at right angles, with all his might, directly 
through the space between me and the painter, which, I saw, 
was now just beginning to advance towards me, but which, to 
my great relief, had seen and was turning in pursuit of the 
flying and frightened bear. 

“ But still, fearing he would give up Uiat pursuit, and again 
take after me, I ran for the river, which I at length reached, 
and threw myself exhausted down on the bank. As it 1 ap- 
pened, I had struck the river exactly at the intended point, 
which was where a small sand-island had been thrown up in 
the middle of the stream. To this island, in case I kept out 
of the claws and jaws of the painter till I reached the river, 


198 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


I had calculated to wade ; believing, from what I knew of the 
repugnance of this class of animals to water, that he would not 
follow me, or, if he did, I need not fail of shooting h:m dead 
while coming through the stream. But I soon found that I was 
not the only one that had thought of this island, in our terrible 
extremity. 

“ I had lain but a few minutes on the bank, before T caught 
the sounds of near and more distant footfalls approaching apace 
through the forest above me. Starting up, I cocked my rifle, 
and darted behind a bush near the edgo of the water, and had 
scarcely gained the stand, when the same bear that I had left 
fleeing before the painter, made his appearance a few rods 
above me, coming full jump down the bank, plunging into the 
stream, and swimming and rushing amain for the island. As 
soon as he could clear the water, he galloped up to the highest 
part of his new refuge, and commenced digging, in hot haste, 
a hole in the sand. The instant he had made an excavation 
large and deep enough to hold his body and sink it below the 
surface, he threw himself in on his back, hurriedly scratched 
the sand at the sides a little over his belly and shoulders, and 
lay still, with his paws stiffly braced upwards. 

“ The next moment the eagerly-pursuing painter came rush- 
ing down the bank to the water, where the bear had entered 
it ; when, after a hesitating pause, he gave an angry yell, and, 
in two prodigious bounds, landed on the edge of the island. 
Having raised my rifle for a helping shot, if needed, I awaited, 
with beating heart and eyes wide open, the coming encounter. 
With eyes shooting fire, the painter hastily fixed his feet, and, 
with a long leap, came down on his intrenched opponent. A 
cloud of dust instantly enveloped the combatants, but through 
it I could see the ineffectual passes of the painter at the bear’s 
head, and the rapid play of the bear’s hind paws under the 
painter’s belly. This bout between them, however, was of but 
short continuance, and terminated by the painter, which now 
leaped suddenly aside, and stood for a moment eyeing his op- 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


199 

% 

ponent askance, as if lie had found in those rending hind-claws 
already much more than he had bargained for. But, quickly 
rousing himself, he prepared for the final conflict ; and, back- 
ing to the water’s edge, he gave one short bound forward, and, 
leaping ten feet into the air, came down again, with a wild 
screech, on his still unmoved antagonist. 

“ This time, so much more furiously flew up the dust and 
sand from the spot, that I could see nothing ; but the mingling 
growls and yells of the desperately-grappling brutes were so 
terrific as to make the hair stand up on my head. Presently, 
however, I could perceive that the cries of the assailant, which 
had been becoming less and less fierce, were now turning into 
howls of pain ; and, the next moment, I saw him, rent and 
bloody, with his entrails out and dragging on the ground be- 
hind him, making off till he reached the water on the opposite 
side of the island, when he staggered through the current, 
feebly crawled up the bank, and disappeared in the woods, 
where he must have died miserably within the hour. 

“ I went home a grateful man ; leaving the bear, that had 
done me such good service, to depart in peace, as I saw him 
doing before I left, apparently little injured from the conflict.’* 


CHAPTER XIV. 


** Ours the wild life the forest still to range, 

From toil to rest, and joy in every change.” 

The low chirping of the wood-birds, the tiny barkings of 
the out-starting squirrels, the hurrying footsteps of the night- 
prowling animals, on their way to their coverts, on the land ; 
and the leaping up of fish, the flapping of the wings of ducks, 
and the far-heard, trumpet-toned cry of the great northern diver, 
on the water, those unfailing concomitants of approaching day, 
in the watered wilderness, early aroused the next morning our 
little band of soundly-sleeping hunters from their woodsmen’s 
feather beds, — the soft, elastic boughs of the health-giving 
hemlock, — and put them on the stir in building their fire and 
making preparations for their breakfast. The business of the 
day before them was the completion of their camp building ; 
which, being intended, as before mentioned, for their general 
head-quarters and storehouse, required far more care and labor 
in the construction than the ordinary structures that are made 
to serve for shelters for the sojourners of the woods. And, as 
soon as they had dispatched their morning repast, they rose 
and prepared themselves to commence the task on hand. As 
the main part of the company were scattering into the woods, 
with their hatchets, in search of straight poles to rib out the 
sides and roof of their structure, which was the first thing in 
order to be done, Phillips, without explaining his object, quietly 
intimated to Codman a wish for company, in a short excursion 
with canoes up the river ; and, the latter complying with the 
intimation, and putting himself under the hunter’s lead, the 
two took to their canoes, with each another canoe in tow, and 

( 200 ) 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


201 . 


commenced rowing up the stream ; which, having run its rapid 
and noisy race down to the foot of the mountains, a mile or two 
above, w'as here, with gentle pace and seeming reverence, ad- 
vancing to the lake with its welcome tribute of crystal waters. 

“ riillo, there, Mr. Hunter ! ” sung out the trapper to the 
other, now some distance ahead, “ what may be some of the 
whys and wherefores of this shine we are cutting, stringing 
along here with canoes to our tails ? What suppose you should 
be telling, before a great while, lest this end of the fleet might 
be missing ? ” 

“ Soon show you,” replied the hunter, without turning his 
head. “ I always liked the Indian fashion of answering ques- 
tions by deeds instead of words, where the circumstances ad- 
mit, — it is so much more significant and satisfactory, besides 
the world of lying it often prevents.” 

After rowing a short distance farther, in silence, the hunter 
turned his canoe in shore ; and, after the other had followed his 
example, he said : 

“ Now, follow me a few rods back into this thicket, up here.” 
And, leading the way, he proceeded to what at first appeared 
to be an irregular pile of brush, lying by the side of a large 
fallen tree, but which, when the top brush was removed, and an 
under-layer of evergreen boughs brushed aside, disclosed a 
large, compact collection of peeled spruce bark, cut in regular 
lengths of six or seven feet, and in breadths of about one foot, 
of exact uniformity, and made so straight and flat by solid 
packing that a rick of sawed boards would have scarcely pre- 
sented a more smooth and even appearance. 

“Well, I will give in, now, and acknowledge myself beat in 
wood-craft,” said the trapper, comprehending, at once, by whom 
and for what purpose this acceptable pile of covering material 
had been cut, and thus nicely cured and stored away for use. 
“ To have done this, you must have come here in June, the 
eeling month ; but how came you to think of this process of 
preparing the bark, or come here at all to do it, so long before- 


202 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


hand, on the uncertainty of its being needed, this full, except 
perhaps by yourself? ” 

“ Well, happening to think, one day, how much better camps 
might be made from bark peeled, cut, and pressed into the re- 
quired lengths and shapes, beforehand, as we prepare it for 
our Indian canoes, than by following our usual bungling method, 
I concluded to put things in train for trying the experiment 
this fall ; and this fall especially, as I was then calculating, 
unless you wished to join, to hunt only in company with the two 
Ehvoods, and 1 was desirous of getting up an extra good camp 
for them.” 

“ You take an unusual interest in the affairs of this newly- 
come family, I have noticed.” 

“ If I do, I may have my reasons for it.” 

“ Special reasons, doubtless.” 

“Ordinary reasons would be enough. In the first place, 
they are fine people, the son and mother uncommonly so, and 
the father also I consider a well-disposed man, but who may 
have some weak points ; and this being so, and the son being 
inexperienced in dealing with designing men, a neighbor, like 
me, ought, I am sure, to be unwilling to see any advantage 
taken of them.” 

“ Yes, a fair reason enough for your course, if you had no 
other ; but may be you have other inducements, received, for 
instance, on your visit to the seaside, the past summer.” 

“ That is all guess-work, remember ; but come, let us drop 
the subject, get this bark into our canoes, and be off down the 
river with it to camp.” 

Th<;y did so; and, on reaching camp, agreeably surprised 
their companions with the abundant supply of excellent ma- 
terial which they had brought for covering the cabin, and 
for which, when the circumstances became known, all were 
disposed to accord due credit to the provident hunter. 

With the material thus obtained, the ribbing of the frame 
having by this time been completed, all hands now commenced 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


203 


the work of laying on, fitting, and confining the pliant and close- 
lying strips of bark to the framework of the structure, both 
above and below. And with so much assiduity and skill did 
they prosecute their labors, that before night their camp waa 
covered and inclosed on every side, and made to present to the 
eye, a cabin neat and comely in appearance, and as tight, warm, 
and secure against storms, as many a dwelling-house in the 
open country, covered with boards and shingles. 

After the company had completed the roof and walls of their 
camp, constructed a rude door, and made what interior arrange- 
ments they deemed necessary for sleeping and storing their 
provisions, they went out, for the hour or two now remaining 
before sunset, and scattered for short excursions in their canoes 
along the neighboring coves of the lake, for the various pur- 
poses of fishing, shooting ducks, or inspecting the shores for 
indications of beaver, otter, and other classes of the smaller 
fur-animals of ampliibious habits. All returning, however, at 
sunset, rhey proceeded to cook and eat their suppers, much in 
the same manner as on the preceding evening ; after which, 
in comf)liance with the suggestions made by several of the 
company during the day, they went into a general consultation 
for the purpose of fixing on the different locations and ranges 
of river and forest, which each, or each pair of them, should 
take for their hunting or trapping during the season before 
them. They soon agreed, in the first place, without any diffi- 
culty, in making the shores of the Oquossak, the next lake 
ahove. and the last and perhaps largest of the four great lakes 
forming the chief links of this singular chain of inland waters, 
the base-line of their operations. Phillips and Codman, having 
procured a wide strip of the outer bark of the white birch, — 
ever the wmodman’s substitute for writing paper, when writing 
becomes necessary, — then proceeded to draw a map, from per- 
sonal recollection, of the strangely-irregular lake in question. 
By this, when completed, it appeared that the main inlet, or 
the uppermost portion, of the Androscoggin river, coming down 


204 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 

from the north through a chain of lakelets, or ponds, and run- 
ning parallel with the eastern shore of the lake, and but a few 
miles distant from it, entered into a deep, pointed bay, about a 
third of the way down the eastern shore ; where it was joined 
by another and scarcely lesser river, coming from or through a 
different chain of these lakelets, scattered along far to the east 
and northeast of the Oquossak; while a third considerable 
stream entered the lake at its extreme northwestern termina- 
tion. These three inlets, that constituted all the rivers of any 
magnitude running into this lake, would not only afford, it was 
readily seen, the most desirable hunting-grounds in the sections 
through which they flowed, but give the greater part of the 
hunters, if they encamped in pairs, and had their camps at the 
mouths of these streams, as was expected, an opportunity of 
locating in near vicinity ; while two more of the remaining 
part of the company would, at the mouth of the northwestern 
inlet, be less than five miles distant. This arrangement would 
dispose of six of the company, — two of them on the inlet last 
mentioned, and four on the two rivers that entered the lake 
together, — and leave one to remain on the Megantic, to take 
charge of the head-quarters, or store-camp there, and hunt 
anywhere he chose in its vicinity. But who the one to be 
placed in this trust should be, was the next question to be de- 
cided. Gaut Gurley, who had been secretly scheming for this 
post ever since the arrangement which he saw must necessarily 
create it was agreed on, and who had been insidiously making 
interest for it, with all the company, except Phillips and Cod- 
man, now proposed that the question should be decided by 
ballot, and without discussion. And, the proposition being 
seconded by Tomah and assented to by all, each took a small 
piece of birch bark, marked with a coal the name of the person 
he would vote for, and deposited it iti a hat placed on their 
stone table for the purpose. After all had voted, the hat was 
turned and the votes assorted ; when it appeared that four votes 
had been thrown for Gaut Gurley and three for Mark Elw('<^ 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG, 


205 


making seven in all, and showing that all the company had 
voted. 

“ Well, friend Elwood,” said Gaut, with a well-assumed air 
of indifference, wdien the result was seen, “shall I resign in 
your favor, or you in mine ? This thing should be unanimous.” 

Elwood looked up inquiringly at Gaut, when he read some- 
thing in the countenance of the latter which gave him to under- 
stand what was expected of him, and he accordingly responded : 
“I should suppose there could not be much question which 
of the two, a minority or a majority candidate, should ask 
the other to stand aside, — especially when, as in your ease, the 
majority candidate is clearly chosen. I voted, gentlemen, for 
Mr. Gurley,” he added, turning to the rest of the company ; 
“ and I hope those who voted for me will cheeifully acquiesce in 
the choice of the majority.” 

“ I am a comparative stranger to you all,” remarked Carvil, 
“ and, though I voted for Mr. Elwood, I will yet very willingly 
agree to the selection you have made.” 

Gaut, knowing well enough who had thrown their votes 
against him, now glanced at Phillips and Codman ; but gather- 
ing from their silence and demure and downcast looks that no 
approving expression was likely to be drawn from either of 
them, he interrupted the pause that followed Carvil’s remarks, 
by saying : 

“ Perhaps, then, I ought to accept the post thus assigned 
me ; and on some accounts it will come right all round. I 
should be compelled, any way, to return once or twice to the 
settlements during our campaign, on business, and I can attend 
to that, and procure the fresh supplies of bread and other 
things we shall need, all under one head. And, besides that, I 
had already made up my mind I should select this stream, and 
the coves oe this lake, for my trapping and hunting for beaver 
and other watei animals, which I once knew how to take, in 
preference to going any farther. So I will accept the post^ 
warrant the safe-keeping of the common property, and sea 


206 GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

what I can do towards contributing mj share to the stock of 
furs.” 

This point being thus regarded by the company as settled, 
they next proceeded to the discussion of the more particular 
duties which should devolve on their chosen camp-keeper ; 
which, at length, resulted in the arrangement that he should 
go up with his canoe into the Oquossak, once a week, make 
the circuit of the lake so far as to visit the nearest or lake- 
shore camps of each or each pair of his companions, bring 
them fresh provisions, and fake back to head-quarters all the 
furs each had caught in the interim, and be held responsible 
for the good condition and safe-keeping of all the peltries, and 
other common property of the company, thus placed in his 
charge. 

After this matter (which was destined to have an important 
bearing on the fate and fortunes of more than one of the lead- 
ing personages of our story) was thus disposed of, they then, in 
conclusion of the business of the evening, proceeded, by mutual 
agreement, to apportion the different locations for hunting on 
the upper lake, already fixed on, among the three pairs of 
hunters the company would now make; decide what individuals 
should join to form each pair; and what general plan of opera- 
tions they should adopt after they had got settled in their 
respective places. By the amicable arrangement thus made, 
Phillips and Claud Elwood were to form one of these pairs, 
and fix their lake-camp at the mouth of the river already 
named as coming in from the east ; Carvil and Mark Elwood to 
constitute another pair, and encamp at the mouth of the great 
inlet entering at the same place ; while Codman and the young 
Indian, Tomah, who, from their mutual challenges in beaver- 
catching, had by this time become friends, and willing to hunt 
from the same starting-point, were to have their camp at the 
mouth of the river coming in at the northwest end of the lake. 
By the plan now adopted, also, each of these three hunting 
parties, after they had reached their respective destinations and 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


207 


built their camps, were to explore the rivera ten or fifteen miles 
upward through the forest, and to some suitable and convenient 
terminus of their proposed trapping and hunting range ; there 
build a camp, in which to lodge on their outward jaunts ; and 
mark off, on their return, by blazing the trees, lines for setting 
log-traps for sable, marten, stoat, or ermine, — for, whatever may 
be said to the contrary, the noted ermine of Europe is a native 
of our northern forests. These marked lines were to diverge 
from the upper camps along the ridges on each side of the 
river; sometimes running many miles apart, then turning down 
to the stream, where indications of beaver and otter had been 
discovered, so as to afford a chance for setting and tending steel- 
traps for those animals; then running back again on to the high 
hills and ridges ; but finally converging in, and meeting at the 
lake camp. And, these preliminary steps being taken, every- 
thing would then be in readiness for setting the traps, and for 
entering on the hopeful business T>f their expedition. 

All these arrangements being now definitely settled and under- 
stood, the consultation was broken up, and the company betook 
themselves once more to their sylvan couches, calculating on an 
early start the next day for tlieir several destinations on the 
Oquossak, the nearest of which was at least a dozen miles 
distant. 

Accordingly, with the first crack of dawn the next morning, 
the loud and startling gallinaceous cachinnation of the droll and 
wide-awake trapper aroused the woodsmen from their slumbers, 
and warned them to be up and doing. And soon the whole 
company were in motion, the kindled fire was crackling and 
flashing up amidst the dry pine faggots, thrown on to feed and 
start it into the steadier blaze and heat of more solid fuel, and 
the process of cooking was going busily forward. In a short 
time they were again gathered, in high spirits, round their stone 
table, unconsciously partaking, as the event proved, the last 
meal they were ever all to enjoy together in the woods. But 
let us not anticipate. 


208 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


As soon as they had dispatched their breakfast, the band 
about to depart loaded their canoes with traps, guns, camp- 
kettles, and the provisions needed for immediate use ; and, wish- 
ing Gaut Gurley a happy and successful time at his solitary 
station, pushed merrily away into the broad lake, turned their 
course northward, and sped on their voyage. A few miles* 
rowing brought them to the great inlet, which, like the princi- 
pal inlets to the lakes below, was another reach of the Andros- 
coggin, flowing directly from the east through a channel, still 
nearly a hundred yards in width and nearly three miles in 
length, from its entrance into one lake to the point where it 
debouches from the other. After a row of an hour up this 
channel, made interesting and impressive by the magnificent 
colonnades of princely pines, that, as far as the eye could reach, 
stood towering away in lessening perspective along its banks, 
they suddenly emerged into the bright and far-stretching waters 
of the unmapped Oquossak, ^^lich lay nestling and inflected 
among the dark green cliffs of the boldly intersecting moun- 
tains, like some rough, unshapen gem, gleaming out from the 
rubbish of a mine. And laying their course northeasterly, for 
the distant bay receiving the waters of the confluent streams 
before described, they now pulled away through the lake, in as 
direct a line as its irregular form would permit. And now, 
skirting long reaches of its deeply-wooded shores, from which 
the old forest, never broken by the axe, and rarely ever trod 
by the foot of the white man, was seen, stretching away back, 
lift after lift, in pristine grandeur, to the tall summits of the 
amphitheatric mountains, — now shooting athwart, under some 
dark headland that stood out boldly disputing the empire with 
the water, and now threading their way among the clustering 
green islands that studded the bright and beautiful expanse, 
they rowed steadily onward for hours, and at length were glad- 
dened by the sight of the dim but well-remembered outlines of 
the pointed bay, whose farthest shore was to be the home and 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


209 


haven for most of their number, during their present sojourn 
in this wild and remote fastness of the wilderness. 

To row in, disembark their luggage, select sites for camps, to 
build those camps, so far as to make them serve for shelters for 
the night, and to prepare and eat their suppers, occupied the 
company, who had all decided to remain there that night 
through the remainder of the day till bed-time. The next 
morning, after an early breakfast, Codman and Tomah took 
leave of their companions, and proceeded on further up the 
lake to their allotted station ; leaving the two Elwoods, and 
their respective hunting companions, to complete their camps, 
which were situated in near vicinity, get all in readiness, and 
the next day enter in earnest on the main business of the 
campaign. 

But it is not our intention to follow either of these pairs, or 
now distinct parties, of adventurous woodsmen, in the general 
routine of their camp life, — in their solitary and almost daily 
marches among the tangled wilds, from their inner to outer 
camps ; their toils and fatigues on the way ; their pleasant 
meetings at the ends of their ranges at night, to recount the 
adventures of the day, and lodge together; their heats and 
their colds, their dark hours and their bright ones, their curious 
experiences and startling encounters with wild animals ; and 
finally their varying success in realizing the objects of their 
expedition, through the successive scenes of the next nine or 
ten weeks, where 

— rifle flashed. 

The grim bear hushed its savage howl, 

In blood and foam the panther gnashed 
Its fangs with dying howl ; 

The fleet deer ceased its flying bound, 

Its snarling wolf-foe bit the ground, 

And, with its moaning cry. 

The beaver sank beneath the wound, 

Its pond-built Venice by.’^ 

14 


^10 


•GAUT GURLEY. 


Suffice it to say, that they were all blest with uninterrupted 
health and increasing vigor, in realization of the favorite theory 
of Carvil, in relation to the invigorating and fattening principle 
of the super-abounding oxygen of the woods. They all highly 
enjoyed their wild life, and were, even beyond their most san- 
guine expectations, successful in their aggregate acquisitions of 
peltries and all kinds of game. Gaut Gurley, whose unremit- 
ted attention and apparent faithfulness in the duties of his post 
soon disarmed the distrusting, came round punctually, every 
week, supplied them with all they needed, and, while reporting 
his own good success, in his short ranges in the vicinity of his 
head-quarters encampment, seemed greatly gratified at the con- 
tinued successes of all the rest, and exultingly bore off their 
furs for curing and safe storage with the rich and rapidly-in- 
creasing collection at his camp ; setting the mark of their col- 
lected value, the last time he came round, at upwards of a 
thousand dollars, and encouraging them with the hope that, 
probably, before any change would occur in the weather 
which would compel them to relinquish the business and return 
to the settlement^ a much larger sum would be realized from 
their exertions. And, in view of this gratifying condition of 
their affairs, the company at large — as winter at the farthest 
could not be very distant — now began to anticipate, with much 
satisfaction, the time when they should return to their families, 
to gladden them with their welcome presence, and, from the 
fruits of their enterprise, make such unlooked-for pecuniary 
additions to the means of domestic comfort and happiness. 


CITAPTER XV. 


*As the night set in, came hail and snow. 

And the air grew sharp and chill, 

And the warning roar of a terrible blow 
Was heard on the distant hill ; 

And the norther, — see, on the mountain peak, 

In his breath, how tlie old trees writhe and shriek ! 

He shouts along o^er the plain, ho, ho ! 

He drives from his nostrils the blinding snow, 

And growls with a savage will/ 

C. G. Eastmaw. 

W E will now take the reader to the wild and secluded banks 
of Dead river, the great southwesterly tributary of the lordly 
Kennebec, the larger twin brother of the Androscoggin, both 
of which, after being born of the same parent range of moun- 
tains, and wandering olf widely apart, at length find, at the end 
of their courses, like many a pair of long estranged brothers, 
their final rest in a common estuary at the seaboard. At a 
point on the banks of the tributary above named, where its 
long southward sweep brings it nearest, and within twenty 
miles of the Oquossak, and within a quarter of that distance 
from the terminating camps of the outward ranges of tlie hun- 
ters, two men in hunting-suits might have been seen, in the 
fore part of one of the last days of November, in the season of 
the eventful expedition we have been describing, intently 
engaged in inspecting some fragments of wrought wood, which, 
from the clue of some protruding piece, they had kicked up 
from the leaves and decayed brushwood that had nearly con- 
cealed them from view. One of these men was past the middle 

( 211 ) 


212 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


age, of a hardy but somewhat worn appearance. The other 
was in the prime of young manhood, of a finely-moulded form 
and an unusually prepossessing face and countenance. But we 
may as well let the dialogue that ensued between them disclose 
their identity; the matter that was now engaging their attention; 
and their reasons for thus appearing in this remote position. 

“ This piece,” said the elder, closely scanning the fragment 
he held in his hand, “ is evidently oak, and looks mightily as 
if it was once the stave of an oak keg or half-barrel. Yes, and 
here is another that will settle the question,” he continued, pul- 
ling from its concealment a larger and sounder fragment. 
“ There ! can’t you trace the chine across the end of this ? ” 

“ Yes, quite distinctly, and I should not hesitate to pronounce 
all these fragments the remains of an oak barrel that had once 
been opened, or left here, if I could conceive how such a thing 
could come here, in the heart of this extensive wilderness. 
How do you solve the mystery, Mr. Phillips ? ” 

“ Well, Claud, I am as much at fault as you. Barrels don’t 
float up stream ; and to suppose this came down stream, and 
still farther from any inhabitants, wouldn’t help on the expla- 
nation any more ; while to suppose it was brought here by 
hunters through the woods, where they could have no use for it 
even if they could get it here, is scarcely more probable.” 

“ True ; but can’t we get a clue from something else about 
the place ? This open space, hereabouts, wears something of 
th^ aspect of a place from which the trees have been once cut 
away, or greatly thinned out, for some great encampment, for 
instance. Did you ever hear of any expedition of men through 
this region, in such numbers as would require the transporta- 
tion of large quantities of provisions, drawn possibly by oxen, 
or more probably by men on light sledges ? ” 

“ Well, now, come to think of it, I have. And I guess you 
have blundered right smack on the truth, at the first go oflf; 
which is more than I can claim for myself, I admit. Yes, 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


21S 


nearly fifty years ago, at the beginning of the old war, as you 
must have often read, an army did pass somewhere through 
the wilderness of Maine to Quebec. It was under the com- 
mand vf that fiery Satan, Benedict Arnold, — the only man in 
America, may be, who could have pushed an army, at that time 
of the year, some weeks later in the season than it is now, 
through a hundred and fifty miles’ reach of such woods as 
these are, between our last and the first Canadian settlement. 
My father was one of that army of bold and hardy men. They 
passed up the Kennebec some distance, and, then, according to 
his account, left it, and, with the view of getting over the 
Highlands on to the Great Megantic more easily, turned up a 
branch, which must have been this very stream. Yes, I see, 
now. You ai*e right about the appearance of this spot. There 
was once a great encampment here, and doubtless that of 
Arnold’s army, staying over night, and breaking open a barrel 
of meat, conveyed here in some such way as you suggested.” 

“ It is an interesting discovery ; for that was a remarkable 
expedition, and must have been one of great hardship and suf- 
fering.” - 

“ Hardship and suffering ! Why, they fell short of provisions 
long before they got out of the wilderness, and, besides the 
hardships of cold and fatigue, came near starving to death ! I 
have heard my father tell how he was one of a party of thir- 
teen, who, with other like squads, were permitted to scatter 
forward in search of some inhabitants, for food, lest they all 
perished together ; how, after going two days without putting 
a morsel into their mouths, except their shoe-strings or the 
inner bark of trees, they at length were gladdened by the sight 
of an opening, with a log house, and a cow standing before the 
door; how, the instant their eyes fell on the cow, they ran like 
blood-hounds for the spot, seized an axe, brought the 'animal to 
the ground, ripped up the hide on one thigh, cut off slices of 
the quivering flesh, and, by the time the aroused family had 


2U 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


got out into the yard, were munching and gobbling them down 
raw, with the desperate eagerness of ravenous beasts.” * 

“ Horrible ! but they paid the poor people for their cow, I 
trust ? ” 

“Yes, twice over, but that did not reconcile them to the loss 
of their only cow, where it was so difficult to get another. The 
children screamed, and even the man and his wife wrung their 
hands and cried as if their hearts would break.” 

“ That incident is to me a new feature among the horrors of 
war, which I probably should have never heard of but for 
coming here and making this curious discovery of one of the 
relics of that terrible and fruitless campaign of our Revolution. 
I am glad we concluded to come.” 

“ So am I; for that, and the other reason that I wanted to 
see the lay of the country, round this river, where, as it hap- 
pened, I had never been. But my mind misgave me several 
times, on the way.” 

“ Why so, pray ? ” 

“ I can hardly tell, my.self, but I began to kinder feel as if 
something wrong was going on somewhere, and that, though 
this place could not be more than five miles from our upper 
camp, where we stayed la.st night, we had yet better be making 
our way directly back to the lake. Besides that, I haven’t liked 
the symptoms of the weather, to-day.” 

“ I don’t know that I have noticed any thing peculiar in the 
weather, except a chilliness of the air that 1 have not felt be- 
fore this season.” 

“ That’s the thing,” rejoined the hunter, glancing uneasily up 
through the treetop.s, to try to get a view of the sky. “ But 
there are other indications I don’t fancy. There is a peculiar 
raw dampness in the air, and a sort of low, moaning sound 
heard once in a while murmuring along through the forest, 

* A historical fact, once related to the author by an old soldier who was 
one of the party here described. 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 215 

6uch as I Lave often noticed before great storms, and sudden 
changes from fall to winter weather, this time of the year. 
And hush ! hark ! ” he exclaimed, suddenly cutting short his 
remark, as the well-known, so.lemn, and quickly-repeated honk! 
honk ! of wild geese, on their passage, greeted their ears. 

They ran down to the wafer’s edge to get a view of the open 
sky, when, looking up, they saw a large flock of these winged, 
semi-annual voyagers of the air, coming in view over the forest, 
in their usual widespread, harrow-shaped battalions, and with 
seemingly hurried flight, pitching down from the British high- 
lands toward the lower regions to the south. And that flock 
had scarcely receded beyond hearing, when another, and yet 
another, with the same uneasy cries and rapid flight, passed, in 
quick succession, over the open reach of sky above them.. 

“ How far do you calculate the nearest shore of the Gulf of 
St. Lawrence is from here ? ” asked the hunter, musingly. 

“O, not so very great a distance, — three hundred miles, 
perhaps,” replied Claud, looking inquiringly at the other. 

“ Well,” slowly responded the hunter, “ those God-taught 
creatures know more about the coming changes of the weather 
than all the philosophers in the world. 'These are but the ad- 
vanced detachments of armies yet behind them, already, doubt- 
less, on their way from Labrador, and even more northern 
coasts beyond. In the unusual mild November we have had, 
they never received their warning till this morning. And these, 
being on the southern outposts of their summer quarters, the 
Gulf of St. Lawrence, started at daylight, I presume, — about 
four hours ago, just about the time I perceived a change in 
the atmosphere myself. This, at the rapid headway you per- 
ceive they are making, would give them time to get here by 
this hour of the day.” 

“ Then you take this as an indication of the approach of win* 
ter weather ? ” 

“ I do. And the evident hurriedness of their flight, and the 
sort of quickened, anxious tone of their cries, show that 


216 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


at least, think it is not far behind them. But let us put all the 
signs together. I must get to some place where I can see more 
of the sky. I noticed, as I was coming in sight of the river, a 
short way back in the woods, a high, sharp hill, with a bare, 
open top, rising from the river, about a hundred rods up along 
here to the left. What suppose we pack up, and go and ascend 
it ? We can, there, besides getting the view we want of the 
lay of the country, see, probably, the horizon nearly all round. 
And, all this done, we will then hold a council of war, and de- 
cide on our next movement.” 

This proposal meeting the ready approval of the young man, 
the two took their rifles, and proceeded to the foot of the emi- 
nence in question, which they found to be a steep, conical hill, ris- 
ing abruptly three or four hundred feet above the general level 
of the surrounding forest, with a small, pointed apex, from which 
some tornado had hurled every standing tree except a tall, 
slender green pine, that shot up eighty or ninety feet, as straight 
as a flagstaff, from the centre. After a severe scramble up 
the steeps, in some places almost perpendicular, they at length 
reached the summit, and commenced leisurely walking round 
the verge, looking down on the variegated wilderness, which, 
with its thousand dotted hills and undulating ridges, lay stretched 
in cold solitude around them. With only a general glance, 
however, over the surrounding forests, the gaze of the hunter 
was anxiously lifted upwards, to study the omens of the heavens. 
The sun, by this time, was scarcely visible beneath the cold, 
lurid haze which had for some hours been gradually stealing 
over it ; while around the horizon lay piled long, motionless 
banks of leaden clouds, thick and heavy enough evidently to be 
dark, but yet of that light, dead, glazed, uncertain hue, which 
the close observer may have often noted as the precursor of 
winter-storms. After a long and attentive survey of every 
visible part of the heavens, the hunter, with an ominous shake 
of the head, dropped his eyes to the ground, and said : 

“ I was right, but didn’t want to believe it when I got jp this 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


217 


morning ; and the wild geese are right. We are on the eve of 
winter, and our best hope is that it may come gently. But 
even that favor, I greatly fear, we shall not be permitted to 
realize.” 

“ Well, sir, with that view of the case, in which I am in- 
clined to concur, what do you propose now ? ” asked .Claud. 

“ Why, I propose, seeing we have all the fur pelts we took 
from the traps yesterday put up in packs, and have left nothing 
in our upper camp of any consequence, — I propose, that, instead 
of going back to our nearest marked line, as we talked of, we 
strike directly across the woods, by the nearest route, to our 
lake camp ; or, if you are willing to put up with two or three 
miles additional travel, we will steer so as to take the upper 
camp of your father and Carvil in our way. We might find 
them there, perhaps.” 

“ Then let us steer for their camp ; I can stand the jaunh 
But can you determine the direction to be taken to strike it ? ” 

“ Nearly, I think. Their camp, you know, is on the neck or 
connecting piece of river, between two long ponds, lying about 
southwest of us. I rather expected to be able to get a glimpse 
of one of those ponds from the hilltop, but find I can’t. I 
presume 1‘could, however, from the top of this pine tree.” 

“ yes, but to climb it would be a long, and perhaps danger- 
ous task, would it not ? ” 

“No, neither. We woodsmen are often compelled to resort 
to such a course, to take our latitude and hearings. And, on 
the whole, 1 think in this case it might be the cheapest way. 
So I will up it, and you may be watching for wild geese, that 
are still, I perceive, every few minutes, somewhere in sight. 
Very likely some flock may soon come over us near enough for 
a shot.” 

So saying, the resolute and active hunter, casting aside coat, 
cap, and boots, sprang up several feet on to the clasped trunk 
of the pine, over whose rough bark he now, by means of the 
vigorous clenches of his arms and legs, fast made his way up- 


218 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


wards. It was a hard struggle for him, however, till he reached 
the lower limbs, some fifty feet from the ground, when, swinging 
himself up by a grappled limb, he quickly disappeared among 
the thick, mantling boughs, on his now doubly-rapid ascent ; 
and, in a few minutes more, he was heard by his com})anion 
below, breaking off the obstructing tiptop branches, and, as he 
gazed abroad from his dizzy height, shouting out the discov- 
eries which were the object of his bold attempt. 

“ Make ready there, below ! ” he startlingly exclaimed, all at 
once, after a long pause, in which he seemed to be silently 
noting the distant objects in the forest ; “ make ready there, 
below, for a famous large flock of wild geese, just heaving in 
siglit over the hills, and coming directly to this spot.” 

The next moment the expected flock, spread out in columns 
answ'ering to the two sides of a triangle, each a quarter of a 
mile in extent, and the nearest nearly in a line with the summit 
where the young huntsman stood, with raised rifle, awaiting 
their approach, came in full view, making the forest resound 
with their multitudinous and mingling cries, and the loud beat- 
ing of their long wings on the air, as they swept onward in 
their close proximity to the earth. Singling out the nearest 
goose of the nearest column, Claud quickly caught iiis aim, and 
fired ; when the struck bird, 'with a convulsive start, suddenly 
clasped its wings, and, in its onward impulse, came down like 
lightning into the bushes, within five rods from its exulting 
captor. 

“ Done like a marksman, — plumped through and through 
under the wing. You are improving, young man,” exclaimed 
the hunter, who now, rapidly coming down, had reached the foot 
of the tree, as Claud came forward fi-om the bushes, with his 
prize, “ It is a fine fat one, ain’t it ? ” he continued, glancing 
at the heavy bird, as he was pulling on his boots. “We will 
take it along with us for our supper.” 

“ Yes, rather a lucky shot,” returned the other, self-compla- 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


2Vj 

cently. “ But what discoveries did you make up there, that 
will aid us in our course, Mr. Phillips ? ” 

O, that is all settled,” answered the latter, putting on his 
pack, and buttoning up, preparatory to an immediate start. “ I 
caught glimpses of both the ponds, noted all the hilltops, ridges, 
and other noticeable landmarks, in the line between here and 
there, and can lead you as straight as a gun to the spot, for 
which we will now be off; and the sooner the better, as it is 
fast growing colder and colder, and the whole heavens are 
every moment growing more dark and dubious.” 

They then, after making their way down the precipitous side 
of the hill to its western ’ foot, struck off, under the lead of the 
hunter, in a line through the forest, preserving their points of 
compass, when none of their general landmarks were visible, 
by noting the peculiar weather-beaten appearance of the mosses 
on the north sides of the trees, and the usual inclination of the 
tips of the hemlocks from west to east. And for the next hour 
and a half, on, on they tramped, in Indian file, and almost un- 
broken silence, making headway with their long, loping steps, 
notwithstanding the obstructing fallen trees, brushwood, and 
constantly occurring inequalities of the ground, with a speed 
which none but practised woodsmen can attain in the forest, 
and which is scarcely equalled by the fastest foot-travellers on 
the smooth and beaten highways of the open country. 

At length they were gratified by an indistinct sight of some 
body of water, gleaming dimly through the trees from some 
point in front ; and the walk of a few hundred yards more 
brought them out, as it luckily happened, directly to the camp 
of which they were in search. It was, however, tenantless ; 
their companions had already departed ; but the bed of live 
coals in the usual place, from which the thin vapor was still 
perceptibly ascending, showed that they could not have left 
more than an hour before. In glancing into the deserted 
shanty, they descried a clean strip of white birch bark, lying 
OMispicuously on the ground, a few feet within the entrance. 


220 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

On picking it up, they were soon enabled to read the following 
words, traced with the charred end of a twig : 

“ Thinking something unusual to be brewing overhead, we 
are off for the lake about 10 a. m. Cakvil.” 

“ A very observing, considerate man, that Mr. Carvil,” said 
the hunter, still musingly keeping his eyes on the uni(pje dis- 
patch. “ He is one of the few book-learned men I have ever 
known, who could apply science to the natural philosophy of 
the woods. I can see how justly he reasoned out this case : 
knowing that we had some thought of a jaunt to Dead river 
this trip, he judged we should notice the signs of the weather 
just as we did, and, as it seems, he did ; and that, in conse- 
quence, when we got there, we should decide on the nearest 
route back, which would bring us so near their camp that we 
should be tempted to come to it ; and so he left this notice for 
us that they thought it wisdom to depart.” 

While the hunter was thus delivering himself, as he stood by 
the fire before the entrance, spreading out his hands over the 
coals, Claud went inside, and, returning with two fine, fresh 
trout, which the late occupants had, for some cause, left behind 
them, held them up to his musing companion, and exclaimed 

“ Look here, Mr. Phillips, — see what they have left for us ! ” 

“ Good ! ” cried the hunter, rousing himself, “ for, whether 
they left them by design or mistake, they come equally well in 
play at this time. You out with your knife and split them 
through the back, and I will prepare the coals. We will roast 
them for a lunch, which will refresh and strengthen us for the 
ten or twelve miles walk that is still to be accomplished, before 
7*eaching the lake.” 

After dispatching the welcome meal, which in this primitive 
fashion they had prepared for themselves out of the material 
thus unexpectedly come to hand, and enjoying the half-hour’s 
rest consequent on the grateful occupation, they again swung on 
their packs, and, striking into one of the marked lines of their 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


221 


companions, set forth with fresh vigor on their journey. Theif 
walk, however, was a long and dreary one. Contrary to what 
they had ever before exjierienced, in jaunts of this length 
through the woods, not a single hunting adventure occurred, to 
enliven the tedium of the way. For, although the heavens 
above were made vocal with the screams of wild geese, still 
pouring along in their hurried flight to the south, to escape the 
eFmental foe behind, like the rapidly succeeding detachments 
of some retreating army, yet not a living creature, biped or 
quadruped, was anywhere to be heard or seen in the forest be- 
neath. All seemed to have instinctively shrunk away and fled, 
as from the presence of some impending evil, to their dens and 
coverts, there to await, cowering and silent, the dreaded out- 
break. Slowly, but steadily, the lurid storm-clouds were gath- 
ering in the heavens, bringing shade after shade over the dark- 
ening wilderness. Low, hollow murmurs in the troubled air 
were now heard, ominously stealing along the wooded hills ; 
and now, in the sharp, momentary rattling of the seared beech- 
leaves, the whole forest seemed shivering in the dead chill that 
was settling over the earth. The cold, indeed, was now becom- 
ing so intense as to congeal and skim over all the pools and 
still eddies of the river, and make solid ice along the shores of 
the rapid currents of the stream ; while even the ground was 
fast becoming so frozen as to dumper and sound beneath the 
hurrying tread of our anxious travellers. By three in the 
afternoon, it had become so dark that they could scarcely see 
the white blazings on the sides of the trees, by which they were 
guided in their course ; and in less than another hour, they were 
stumbling along almost in utter darkness, uncertain of their 
way, and nearly despairing of reaching their destination that 
night. But, while they were on the point of giving up the at- 
tempt, the bright glare of an ascending blaze, shooting fiercely 
through the thickets before them, greeted their gladdened eyes, 
and put them on exertions that soon brought them rejoicing 
into the comfortable quarters of their almost equally gratified 


222 


OAUT GURLEY; OR, 


friends and comrades ; where it was at once decided that, i& 
stead of proceeding to theii* own camp, to build a fire and lodge, 
they should turn in for the night. 

After some time passed in the animated and cheery inter- 
change of inquiries and opinions, which usually succeeds on the 
meeting of anxiously-sought or expected friends, Claud and 
Phillips, having by this time wanned and measurably rested 
themselves, took hold with Carvil and Mark Elwood in dress- 
ing and cooking for supper and for breakfast the next morning, 
Claud’s goose, and a pair of fine ducks from a flock which the 
two latter had encountered just before reaching camj) that after- 
noon ; and, after completing this process with their good supply 
of game, and the more agreeable one of eating so much of it as 
served for a hearty supper, they drew up an extra quantity of 
fuel for the large fire which they felt it would be necessary to 
keep up through the night ; and then, seating themselves in 
camp, went into an earnest consultation on the measures and 
movements next to be taken. When, in view of the lateness of 
the season, coupled as it was with the alarming portents of an 
immediate storm, which they had all noticed, it was unanimously 
determined that they should embark, early next morning, for 
head-(piarters on the Maguntic, where Gaut Gurley, instead of 
preparing to come round again, as was now nearly his usual 
time to do, would, under the altered aspect of things, doubt- 
less be awaiting them, and making arrangements for the return 
of all to the settlement. Then, building up a fire of solid logs, 
tor long burning, the tired woodsmen drew up their bough-j)il- 
lows towai'ds the entrance of the camp, so as to bring their feet 
near the fire, closely wrapped their thick blankets around them, 
Lay down, and were soon buried in sound slumber. And it was 
well for them that they were thus early taking their needed 
rest; for, soon after midnight, they were awakened by the 
lively undulations of the piercing cold air that was driving and 
whistling through the sides of their camp, and by the puffs ol 
suffocating smoke that the eddying vvinds were ever and anon 


THE TRAPPERS OP tJMBAGOG. 


223 


driving from their fire directly into their faces. One after an 
other they rose, and ran out to see what had caused the, to them, 
sudden change that had occurred in the air since they went to 
sleep. And they were not long in ascertaining the truth. The 
expected storm liad set in, with that low, deep commotion of 
the elements, and that slowly gathering impetus, whicli, as may 
often be noted at the commencement of great storms, was but 
the too certain prelude of its increase and duration. The fine 
snow was sifting down apace to the already whitened ground, 
and the rising wind, even in their mountain-hemmed nook, was 
whirling in fierce and fitful eddies about their camp, and shrilly 
piping among the strained branches of the vexed forest around ; 
while its loud and awful roar, as it careered along the sides of 
the distant mountains, told with what strength and fury the 
storm was commencing over the country at large. In the situa- 
tion in which the c>ompany now found themselves, neither sleep, 
comfort, nor (juiet w'ere to be expected for the remainder of 
the night. They therefore piled high the wood on their fire, 
and gathered round the hot blaze, to protect them from the cold, 
that had now not only grown more intense, but become doubly 
difficult to withstand, from the force with which it was brought 
by the driving blasts in contact with their shivering persons. 
And thus, — in alternately turning their backs and fronts to the 
fire, while standing in one place, and often shifting places from 
one side of the fire to the other; in now taking refuge within 
their camp when the constantly veering gusts bore the smoke 
and flame outward, and then fleeing out of it when the stifling 
column was driven inward ; but finding no peace nor rest any- 
where, among those shifts atid commotions of the battling ele- 
ments, — they wore away the long and comfortless hours of that 
dreary night, till the return of morning light, which, after many 
a vain prayer for its speedier appearance, at length gradually 
broke over the storm-invested widerness. 

As soon as it was light enough to see objects abroad, or se6 
them as well as they can ever be discerned thro/igh the fast-^ 


224 


(JAUT GtFRLEY ; OPI, 


falling snow of such a driving storm, Phillips and Carvil sallied 
out through the snow, already eight inches deep, and made their 
way down to the nearest shore of the lake, about a quarter of 
a mile distant, to ascertain the condition of the water before 
embarking upon it in their canoes, as they had designed to do 
immwiiately after breakfast. On reaching the shore, they 
found the narrow bay, before mentioned as forming the estiuiry 
of the two rivers on which they had been located, comparatively 
calm, though filled with congealing snow and floating ice from 
the rivers. But all beyond the line of the two points of land 
inclosing (he bay was rolling and tumbling in wild commotion, 
madly lashing the rocky headlands with the foaming waters, and 
resounding abroad over the hills with the deep, hoarse roar of 
the tempest-beaten breakers of the ocean. 

“ Do you see and hear that ? ” exclaimed Phillips, pointing to 
the lake. 

“ Yes, yes ; but what was that I just caught a glimpse of, out 
there in the offing, to the right ? ” hastily cried Carvil. 

Tliey both peered forward intently; and the next moment 
they saw a canoe, containing a single rower, low bending to big 
oar, shoot by the northern headland with the speed of an arrow, 
strike obliquely out of the white line of rolling waves into the 
bay, and make towards the point where they stood. 

“ Who can it be ? ” inquired Carvil, after watching a while in 
silence the slow approach of the obstructed canoe. 

“ In a minute more we shall see,” replied the hunter, bend- 
ing forward to get a view of the man’s face, which, being seen 
the next moment, he added, with a shout : “ Hallo, there. Cod- 
man, is that you ? Why didn’t you crow, to let us know who 
wa.s coming ?” 

“ Crow ? ” exclaimed the trapper, driving through the ice to 
the shore ; “ did you ever hear a rooster crow in a time like 
this? There! T am safe, at last,” he added, leaping out upon 
the shore, and glancing back with a dubious shake of the head 
towards the scene from which he had thus escaped. “ Yes, safe 


THE TRAPrEES OF UMBAGOG. 


225 


now, for all my fright ; but I would not be out another hour on 
tliat terrible lake for all the beaver in the province of Maine ! 
I started at daylight, got out a mile or two, tolerably, but after 
that, Heaven only knows how I rode on those wild waves with- 
out swamping ! But no matter, — I am here.” 

“ But where is Tomah, the Indian ? ” asked the hunter. 

“ Tomah ! ” said Codman, in surprise. “ Why, haven’t you 
seen Jiim ? He went off tliree days ago, saying he must return 
to the settlement, to be training his moose to the sledge, so as to 
start for Boston with him, the first snow. He said he should 
leave it with Gaut Gurley to see to his share of the furs. I 
supposed he would call at one of your camps. But come, move 
on. J suppose you have afire at camp, and something to eat ; I 
am frozen to death, and starved to death, besides being more 
than half-dead from the great searing I’ve had ; but that’s all 
over now, and I’m keen for breakfast. So troop along back to 
your camp, I say.” 

To return to camp, take their cold and comfortless breakfast, 
and decide on the now hard alternatives of remaining where 
they were, to await the event of the storm, without pro- 
visions, and with their imperfect means of protection from the 
rigor of the elements, or of starting off through the cumbering 
snow beneath their feet, and the driving tempest above their 
heads, with the hope of reaching head-quarters by land, before 
another night should overtake them, was but the work of half 
an hour. To remain, with the foretaste of the past and the 
prospects of the future, was a thought so forbidding that none 
of them could for a moment entertain it ; and to set out to 
travel by land, with such prospects, over the mountains, by 
the long, winding route on the eastern side of the lake, — which 
was the only one left to them, and which could not be less than 
fifteen miles in extent, — was a scarcely less forbidding alter- 
native. But it must be adopted. So, gathering in their steel 
traps and iron utensils, they buried them all, except their light- 
est hatchet, under a log, that they should not be encumbered 
1ft 


226 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


with more weight than was absolutely necessary ; snugly pack- 
ing up the few peltries they had taken since Gaul Gurley had 
been round and putting the scanty remains of their food into 
their pockets, for a lunch on the way, they set forth on their 
formidable undertaking. 

Led on and guided by the calm and resolute hunter, — who 
at different times had been over the whole way, and in whose 
skill and discretion, as a woodsman, for conducting them by the 
nearest and easiest route, they all had undoubting confidence, — 
they vigorously made their way onwards through the accumu- 
lating snows and natural obstructions of the forest ; now thread- 
ing the thickets of the valleys ; now skirting the sides of the 
hills ; now crossing deep ravines ; and now climbing high 
mountains in their toilsome march. And, though the storm 
seemed to rage more and more fiercely with the advancing 
hours of the day, — whirling clouds of blinding snow' in their 
faces, hurling the decayed limbs and trunks of the older tenants 
of the wood to the earth around them, in the fury of its blasts, 
and rattling and creaking through the colliding branches of the 
writhing green trees, as it swept over the wilderness, — yet, 
for all these difficulties of the way and commotions of the ele- 
ments, they faltered not, but continued to move forw'ard in 
stern and moody silence, hour after hour, in the footsteps of 
their indomitable leader, until they reached the extreme eastern 
point of the lake, where their destination required them to turn 
round it, in a sharp angle to the west. Here, at the suggestion 
of their leader, who made the encouraging announcement that 
the worst half of their journey was accomplished, they made a 
halt, under the lee of a sheltering mountain, for rest and re- 
freshment. And, sitting down on a fallen tree, from whose 
barkless trunk they brushed off the snow, they took out and com- 
menced chewing their stale and frozen bread, wuth a few small 
pieces of duck-meat, remaining from their breakfast, and com- 
prising the last of their provisions. The animal heat, produced 
by their great and continued exertions in travelling, had thui 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


227 


far prevented them from suffering much from the cold, or per- 
ceiving its actual intensity. But they had been at rest scarcely 
1 >ng enough to finish their meagre repast, when they were 
driven from their seats by the chill of the invading element, and 
were eagerly demanding, as a lesser annoyance, again to be led 
forward on their journey. The snow by this time had accumu- 
lated to the depth of a foot and a half, and still came swiftly 
sifting down aslant to the earth, witliout the least sign of abate- 
ment ; while the wind, which was before a gale, had now risen 
to a hurricane, causing the smitten earth to tremble and shake 
under the force of the terrible blasts that went shrieking and 
howling through the bowed, bending, and twisting forests, 
where 

The sturdiest birch its strength was feeling, 

And pine trees dark and tall 

To and fro were madly reeling, 

Or dashing headlong in their fall.” 

But, still undismayed by these manifestations of elemental 
power around them, or the prospects before them, all terrific 
and disheartening as they were, and nerved by the conscious- 
ness that their only chance of escape from a fearful death de- 
pended on their exertions, the bold and hardy woodsmen again 
started out into the trackless waste, and labored desperately 
onward, mile after mile, through the impeding snow ; sometimes 
taken to the armpits in its gathering drifts, and sometimes 
thrown at full length beneath its submerging depths by step- 
ping into some hole or chasm it had concealed from their sight. 
And thus resolutely did they beat and buffet their rough way 
through the perplexed and roaring wilderness, and thus stoutly 
did they bear up against the constantly thickening dangers that 
environed them during the last part of that dreadful day. But, 
as night drew on, their strength and spirits began to flag and 
give way. The cold wms increasing in intensity. The tem- 
pest howled louder than ever over their heads, and the snow 
had become so deep and drifted that furlongs became as miles 


228 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


in their progress. And yet, as they supposed, they were miles 
from their destination. At length, one after another, they fal- 
tered and stopped. The strong men quailed at the fate which 
seemed staring them in the face, and they were on the point 
of giving up in despair. But hark ! that cheery shout which 
rises above the roaring of the wind, from their more hardy and 
hopeful leader, who, while all others stopped, had pushed on 
some thirty rods in advance. It comes again ! 

“ Courage, men ! We have struck the river, at whose mouth 
stands our camp, now not half a mile distant.” 

Aroused by the glad tidings, that sent a thrill of joy through 
their sinking hearts, they sprang forward, with the revivified 
energies which new and suddenly-lighted hope will sometimes 
so strangely impart, and were soon by the side of the exulting 
hunter ; when together they rushed and floundered along down 
the banks of the stream towards the place, in joyful excitement 
at the thought that their troubles were now so nearly over, and 
with visions of the comfortable quarters, wmrm fires, and smok- 
ing suppers, which they confidently expected were awaiting 
them at camp, brightly dancing before them. Joy and hope 
lent wings to their speed ; and, in a short time, they could dis- 
cern the open place and the well-remembered outlines of the 
locality where the camp was situated. * Bat no bright light 
greeted their expectant eyes. They were now at the spot, but, 
to their utter consternation, no camp was to be seen ! Could 
they be mistaken in the place ? No ; there was the open path 
leading to the structure ; there rose the steep side of the hill ; 
and there, at the foot of it, stood the perpendicular rock against 
which it was erected ! What could it mean ? After standina 
a moment in mute amazement, peering inquiringly at each 
other, in the fading twilight, they started forward for the rock, 
and, in so doing, came upon the two front posts, still standing 
up some feet out of the snow. They were black and charred! 
The sad truth then flashed over their minds. Their camp had 
been burnt to the ground, and with also, probably, their rich 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


229 


collection of furs, — nearly the whole fruit of all the toils’and 
fatigues of their expedition ! O death, death ! what shall save 
the })oor trappers, now ? 

“ Great God ! I have had a presentiment of this,” exclaimed 
Phillips, the first to find utterance, in a voice trembling with 
unwonted emotion. 

“How could it have happened?” and “Where is Gaut 
Gurley ? ” simultaneously burst from the lips of the others. 

“Well may you ask those questions, and well couple them 
together, I fancy,” responded the hunter, with bitter significance. 
“ But away with all speculations about thaU now. We have 
something that more nearly concerns us to attend to, in this 
strait, than forming conjectures about the loss of our prop- 
erty : our lives are at stake ! If you will mind me, however, 
you may all yet be saved.” 

“ Direct us, direct us, and we will obey,” eagerly responded 
one and all. 

“ Two of you follow me, then, for something dry, if we can 
find it, for a fire, and the rest go to kicking away and treading 
down the snow under the rock, with all your might! ” sharply 
commanded the hunter, dashing his way towards the thickets, 
with hatchet in hand. 

With that ready obedience which a superior in energy and 
experience will always command among his fellows, in emer- 
gencies like this, the men went to work in earnest. In a short 
time the snow was cleared away or beat down compactly over 
a space some yards in extent along the side of the rock, while 
the others soon returned with a supply of the driest wood to be 
found, together with an armfull of hemlock boughs, to strew 
over the beaten snow. The next thing requiring their atten- 
tion was the all-important object of starting a fire. But in this 
they were doomed to sad disappointment. Their punk -wood 
tinder had been so dampened by the snow sifting into their 
coat-pockets, where they had deposited it, that it could not be 
made to catch the sparks of the smitten steel. They then tried 


230 


GAUT GURLEY; OB, 


the flashing of their guns ; but they had no paper, and could 
find no dry leaves or fleecy bark of the birch, and the finest 
splinters or shavings they could whittle, in the dark, from tho 
clefts of the imperfectly dry pine, would not take fire from the 
light, evanescent flash of the powder in their pans. Again 
and again did they renew the doubtful experiment ; but every 
succeeding trial, from the dampness of their material in the 
driving snow, and from the unmanageable condition of their be- 
numbed fingers and shivering frames, became more and more 
hopeless, till at length they were compelled to relinquish wholly 
the fruitless attempt. 

“ This is a calamity, indeed ! ” exclaimed the hunter. “ I 
feared it might be so from the first. Could we have foreseen 
the want, so as to have been on the lookout for material coming 
along, or have got here before dark, it might have been averted. 
But as it is, there is one resort left for us, if we would live in 
this terrible wind and cold till morning, and that is, to keep in 
constant and lively motion. Whoever lies down to sleep is a 
dead man ! ” 

But he found it difficult to impress on the minds of most of 
them his idea of the danger of ceasing motion. They began 
to say they felt more comfortable now, and, being very tired, 
must lay down to take a little rest. Sharply forbidding the 
indulgence, the hunter sallied out, cut and trimmed two or 
three green beech switches, and returned with them to his 
wondering companions ; when, finding Mark Elwood, in disre- 
gard of his warning, already down and dozing on a bunch of 
boughs under the rock, he sternly exclaimed : 

“ Uj>, there, in an instant ! ” 

“O, let me lie,” begged the unconsciously freezing man: “do 
let me lie a little while. I am almost warm, now, but very, 
very sleepy,” he added, sinking away again into a doze. 

Instantly a smart blow from the tough and closely-setting 
switch of the hunter fell upon the outstretched legs of the 
dozer, who cringed and groaned, but did not start. Another 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


231 


and another, and yet another, fell with the quickness and force 
of a pedaj^o^ue’s rod on the legs of an otFencling urchin, till the 
aroused, maddened and enraged victim of the seeming cruelty 
lea[)ed to his feet, and, with doubled fists, rushed upon the as- 
sailant, who darted off into the snow and led his ])ursuer a 
doubling race of several hundred yards before he returned to 
the spot. 

“ There are some spare switches,” resumed the active and 
stout-hearted hunter, as he came in a little ahead of the puffing, 
reanimated, and now pacified Elwood ; “ take them in hand, and 
do the same by me, if you see me going the same way ; it is 
our only salvation ! ” 

But, notwithstanding all this preaching, and the obvious ef- 
fects of this wholesome example, others of the company, de 
ceived by the insidious sensation which steals upon the unsus- 
pecting victims of such exposures, as the treacherous herald of 
their death, — others, in turn, required and promptly received 
the application of the same strange remedy. But this could 
not always last. The fatigue of their previously overtasked 
systems prevented them from keeping up their exertions m.any 
hours more ; and, declaring they could bear up no longer, one 
after another sunk down under the rock; and even their hith- 
erto indomitable leader himself now visibly relaxed, and at 
length threw himself down with the rest, feebly murmuring : 

“ I know what this feeling means; but it is so sweet! let us 
all die together ! ” 

At that instant a shock, quickly followed by the loud, gath- 
ering rumblings of an earthquake, somewhere above them, 
suddenly aroused and brought every man to his feet. And 
the next moment an avalanche of snow, sweeping down the 
steep side of the rock-faced declivity above, shot obliquely over 
their heads to the level below, leaving them unharmed, but 
buried twenty feet beneath the outward surface. 

“Now, God be praised!” cried the hunter, at once compre- 
hending what had happened, and starting forward to feel out 


232 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


tvhat space was left them between their shielding rock in the 
rear and the wedged and compact slant snow-wall in front* 
which, with the no less deeply blocked ends, formed the roof 
and sides of their new and thus strangely built prison-house, 
This is the \vork of Providence! We are now, at least, 
safe from the cold, as you will all, I think, soon have the pleas- 
ure of perceiving.” 

“You are right, Mr. Phillips,” responded Carvil ; “and it is 
strange some of us did not think of building a snow-house at 
the outset. Even the wild partridges, that in coldest weather 
protect themselves by burrowing in the snow, might have taught 
us the lesson.” 

“ Yes, but it has been far better done in the way God has 
provided for us. And we have only now to get our blood into 
full circulation to insure us safety and rest through the night ; 
and let us do this by shaking out our boughs, and treading 
down the snow, as smooth as a floor, to receive them for our 
bedding.” 

“ It may be as you say about its being mild here, Mr. Phil- 
lips,” doubtingly observed Mark El wood ; “but it seems strange 
philosophy to me, that being inclosed in snow, the coldest 
substance in nature, should make us warmer than in the open 
air.” 

“ And still I suspect it is a fact, father,” said Claud. “ The 
Esquimaux, and other nations of the extreme north, it is known, 
live in snow-houses, without fire, the whole of their long and 
rigorous winters.” 

“O, Phillips is right enough about added Codman, now 
evidently fast regaining his usual buoyancy of spirits ; “ yes, 
right enough about that, whether he was about that plaguey 
switching he gave us, or not. Why, I can feel a great change 
m the air here already 1 warm enough, soon ; safe, at any rate ; 
so, hurra for life and home, which, being once so honestly lost, 
will now be clear gain. Hurra ! whoo-rah ! whoo-rah-ee I 
Kuk-kuk-ke-o-ho ! ” 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


233 


And the hunter was right, and the trapper was right. Theii 
perils and physical sufferings were over. They were not only 
safe, but fast becoming comfortable. And, by the time they 
had trod down the snow as hard and smooth as had been pro- 
posed, and shaken out the boughs and distributed them for 
their respective beds, the air seemed as warm as that of a mild 
day in October. Their clothes were smoking and becoming 
dry by the evaporation of the dampness caused by the snow. 
Their limbs had become pliant, and their whole systems restored 
to their wonted warmth and circulation. And, wrapping them- 
selves in their blankets, they laid down, — as they knew they 
could now safely do, — and were soon lost in refreshing slum- 
ber, from which they did not awake till a late hour the next 
morning. 

When they awoke, after their deep slumbers, they at once 
concluded, from the altered and lighter hue of all around them, 
as well as by their own feelings, that it must be day without ; 
and with one accord commenced, with their hatchets, cutting 
and digging a hole through the wall of their snowy prison- 
house, in the place where they judged it most likely to be thin- 
nest. After working by turns some thirty or forty minutes, 
and cutting or beating out an upward passage eight or ten 
yards in extent, they suddenly broke through into the open air. 
The roaring of the storm no longer greeted their ears. The 
terrible conflict of the elements, which yesterday kept the 
heavens and earth in such hideous commotion, was over and 
gone. Though it was as cold as in the depths of winter, the 
sky was almost cloudless ; and the sun, already far on his 
diurnal circuit, was glimmering brightly over the dreary wastes 
of the snow-covered wilderness. By common consent, they 
then packed up, and immediately commenced beating their 
slow and toilsome way towards the nearest habitation, which 
was that of the old chief, now only about five miles distant, over 
land, on the shore of the lake below. With far less fatigue 
and other suffering, save that of hunger, than they had antici- 


234 


GAUT GURLEY. 


pated, they readied the hospitable cabin of Wenongonet before 
night. Here their wants were supplied ; here an earnest dis- 
cussion — in which they were aided by the shrewd surmises 
of the chief — was held, respecting the burning of their camp 
and the probable loss of their common property ; and, finally, 
here, though the Light of the Lodge'' was absent at her city 
home, they were agreeably entertained through the night and 
succeeding day, — when, the lakes having become frozen over 
sufficiently sti'ong to make travelling on the ice as safe as it 
was convenient and easy, they, on the second morning after 
their arrival at his house, bade their entertainer good-by, and 
set out for their homes in the settlement, which they respec- 
tively reached by daylight, to the great relief of their anxious 
and now overjoyed families and friends. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


“There was a laup^hing devil in his sneer, 

That rais’d emotions both of hate and fear.” 

In the early part of an appointed day, about a fortnight 
after the return of the imperilled and unfortunate trappers to 
their homes, as described in the preceding chapter, an unusual 
gathering of men was to be seen within and around a building 
whose barn, open shed, watering-trough, and sign-post, showed 
its aspirations to be a tavern, occupying a central position 
among a small, scattering group of primitive-looking houses, 
situated on tlie banks of the Androscoggin, five miles below 
that lake, and where it might be considered as fairly under 
way, as an unihterrupted river, in its devious course to the 
ocean. 

In the yard and around the door stood men, gathered in small 
knots, engaged in low, earnest conversation ; while, every few 
minutes, some were seen issuing from the house and hastily de- 
parting, as if dispatched on special messages, — the company in 
the mean time being continually augmented by fresh arrivals of 
the settlers, who came straggling in from both directions of the 
great road, which, leading from the more thickly-settled parts 
of Maine to the Connecticut, here passed over the Andros- 
coggin. 

Within the house, in the largest room, and behind a table, 
drawn up near the wall at the farther end, sat a magistrate, in 
all the grave dignity of a court, with pen in hand and paper 
before him, as if in readiness to take such testimony in the 
case on hand as should be i)resented for his consideration. On 
his right sat Mark Elwood, Phillips, and Codman, appearing as 

( 235 ) 


236 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


the representatives of the injured trappers or hunters, who 
were the prosecutors in the case ; while on his left sat Gaut 
Gurley, in custody of the sheriff and his assistant, who had 
arrested and brought him there to answer to the complaint of 
the former. Gaut appeared perfectly unconcerned, glancing 
boldly about him with an air of proud defiance ; wiiile his 
former companions, the trappers just named, sat looking down 
at their feet, compressing their lips and knitting their brows in 
moody and indignant silence. 

But, before proceeding with any further description of the 
court, its parties or doings, let us briefly recur to what had 
happened in the interim between the return of the trajipers 
and their present appearance in court, for redress for the out- 
rages that they supposed had been designedly committed upon 
them, or at least for bringing to punishment the man who, 
they felt morally certain, must be the perpetrator. 

After the trappers had reached their homes, become fully 
restored from the chill and fatigues they had undergone durino^ 
the terrible storm with which their expedition so disastrously 
terminated, and attended to such domestic wants as demanded 
their immediate care, they met at the house of Phillips, in 
accordance with an appointment they made when they parted, 
to report what evidence each might be able to collect relative 
to the burning of their camp, and the suspected previous ab- 
straction of their furs ; and thereupon to decide what measures 
should be taken in the premises. Finding that Gaut Gurley 
had been seen at home, or in the vicinity, some days previous to 
the storm, and that he was not likely to come to them, they dis- 
patched a disinterested person to him, to notify him of their arri- 
val, and the condition in which they found matters at the store- 
camp, left in his charge, and also of their wish that he would 
attend their proposed meeting, and account for the catastrophe 
which had so unexpectedly occurred. lie pretended to know 
nothing of the affair, and feigned great surprise at the news ; 
Baid he had left the camp and its stores, all safe, two days 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


237 


before the storm, to come to the settlement tor more provisions 
believing that his companions would remain a fortnight longer 
that, having procured his supplies, he was intending to return 
to camp the day the storm came on; and finally that it devolved 
on those last at the camp, and not on him^ to account for what 
had taken place. lie therefore declined meeting them on the 
business As soon as they ascertained that Gaut had taken 
tliis stand, which only added to their previous convictions of 
his guilt, the different members of the company made journeys 
to the nearest villages or trading-places in Maine and New 
Hampshire, to see if any furs, answering in description to their 
collection, had recently been sold in any of those towns. And 
at length they found, in one of the frontier villages in Maine, 
a small collection of peltries, which they thought they could 
identify, and which the trader said he had lately pui’chased of 
an unknown travelling pedlar, who, out of a large lot of pel- 
ti-ies, would sell only these at prices that would warrant the 
purchasing. This small lot of furs they f)revailed on the trader 
to let them take-home with them, for the purpose of making 
proof in court. This was all the direct evidence they could 
find to implicate Gaut ; but they believed it would be sufficient. 
For, at the meeting they then held, Mark Elwood found among 
the furs a beaver-skin, that he could swear was of his own 
taking, from a careless slit he remembei*ed to have made in 
the skinning. Codman found another, which he could safely 
identify by a mangled ear which was caught in one end of the 
trap, while the tail was caught in the other. And Phillips 
found an otter skin, with a bullet-hole on each side, made, as 
he well remembered, by shooting the animal through and 
through in the region of the heart. On this proof they unan- 
imously decided on a [)rosecution ; and accordingly Phillips 
and Mark Elwood set off the next day for Lancaster, the shire- 
town on the Connecticut, for legal advice, warrants, and a 
sheriff tc serve them. On reaching the })lace, they were told 
by the attorney they consulted that they could not make out 


238 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


larceny or theft against Gurley for taking the furs placed in 
his trust, but for their private redress must resort to a civil 
action of trover, or unlawful conversion of the common property. 
A criminal [)rocess for arson, or the burning of the camp, 
would probably be sustained. And the result of the consulta- 
tion was, that a complaint and warrant for arson should be 
issued, and the arrest made by the sheriff, who should also have 
in his hands a civil process returnable to the court of Common 
Pleas, to serve on Gui-ley and his property, provided the proof 
elicited at the court of inquiry on the criminal charge should 
be such as to afford them any prospect of a recovery. 

It was under these circumstances that Gaut Gurley had been 
arrested for the burning of the camp, and brought before the 
magistrate, who, with the lawyers employed on both sides, had 
come to this place, as before described, for the hearing of the 
case. 

The magistrate now declared the court open, and directed 
the parties to proceed with the case. The attorney for the 
prosecution then rose, read the complaint, and briefly stated 
what they expected to prove, to substantiate the allegations it 
contained. Mark Elwood, Phillips, Codman, and the trader 
who had purchased the furs of the pedlar, and who had been 
summoned for the purpose, were then called to the stand, and 
sworn, as witnesses on the |)art of the prosecution. 

The trader, being first called on, testified to the identity of 
the furs which had been produced in court with the lot he had 
bought of the pedlar, as before mentioned ; and he further 
stated that the man had a large lot, which well answered the 
general description given by the complainants of the lot they 
had in camp ; but where or how he obtained the lot, or who 
he was. or where he went to when he left town, he did not 
learn, and had no means of ascertaining. All he could say, was, 
that these were the furs he purchased, and the only ories of the 
whole lot on the [)ricesof which he and the fellow could agree, so 
as to effect a trade. 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 23D 

Phillips, next called, swore plumply that the bullet-pierced 
otter-skin before him was taken by his own hand from the 
animal he shot. He also added that there were several strings 
of saple-skins in the lot before him, which he felt confident he 
had seen among the furs of the company, and he especially 
pointed out one strung together by a braid of wickape bark. 
And in this last statement he was confirmed by Codman, who, 
besides identifying one beaver-skin, had the same impression 
in relation to the string of sable ; but neither of them would 
swear positively in the matter of the smaller furs. 

Mark Elwood, the last of the witnesses to be examined, then 
took the stand ; and, contrary to what might have been ex- 
pected from one of his wavering disposition, and particularly 
from one who had been so strangely kept under the influence 
and fear of the man on trial, bore himself resolutely under the 
menacing locks which the latter fixed upon him by way of in- 
timidation. For some time he had utterly. refused to harbor 
the idea of Gaut’s guilt. He believed the burning of the 
camp was accidental ; that Gaut, in anticipation of the storm, 
had taken all the furs home with him, and would soon call the 
company together for the distribution. But when he heard of 
the course Gaut was taking, and coupled it with the other cir- 
cumstances, he suddenly changed his tone, fell into the belief 
of his companions, and more loudly and openly than any of 
them denounced the crime and its author, — seemingly throwing 
off, at once and forever, the mysterious spell which had so long 
bound him. Accordingly he now swore confidently to the 
beaver-skin in question, as one of his own taking, and, facing 
him boldly, even went so far as to declare his full belief iu 
Gaut’s guilt, not only in the burning of the camp, but in the 
stealing of the furs. 

This gratuitous assertion of a mere matter of belief in the 
respondent’s guilt, which was no legal evidence in the case, at 
once aroused, as might have been expected, the ire of Gaut’s 


240 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


lawyer, who, with fierce denunciations of the conduct of ttift 
witness, subjected him to a severe cross-examination. 

“ Wliat reason, then,” asked the somewhat mollified lawyer, 
now himself incautiously venturing on ground which, with a 
better knowledge of the parties, he would have seen might 
injure his cause, and on which his client evidently wished him 
not to push inquiries. “ What reason, then, could you have 
for your extraordinary conduct in trying, against all rule, to 
lug in here your mere ungrounded conjectures, to prejudice the 
court and spectators against an innocent man ? ” 

“ Innocent ? ” here broke in Phillips, provoked by what, in 
his exasperated state of feeling, he viewed as the cool impu- 
dence and hypocrisy of the lawyer. “ Innocent, hey ? Well, 
well, there are various ways of lying in this world, I see plainly.” 

“ What do you know about my client, whom you are all con- 
spiring to ruin ? ” exclaimed the excited lawyer, turning fiercely 
on the interposing hunter. 

“ Know about him ? ” retorted the other. I know enough, 
besides this outrageous affair ; I know enough to ” 

“ Beware ! ” suddenly exclaimed Gaut Gurley, with a look 
that brought the speaker to a stand. 

“ I don’t fear you, sir,” said the hunter, confronting the other 
with an unflinching countenance. “ But you may be right ; it 
may be / had better forbear ; it may be your time is not yet 
come,” he added, in a low, significant tone. 

“ Now, I will finish with you, sir,” resumed Gaut’s lawyer^ 
turning again sternly to Elwood, from whom he — like many 
other over-acting attorneys, who cannot see where they should stop 
in examinations of this kind — seemed to think he could draw 
something more that would make for his client. “ When that 
fellow interrupted me, just now, I was asking what reason, be- 
sides some grudge or malice, you had for your unwarrantable 
course in pronouncing the respondent guilty, without proof; for, 
allowing the furs you swear to were once yours, you don’t show, 
by a single particle of proof, that he had any thing to do with it 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


241 


more than yourselves, who were quite as likely to have taken 
them as he. Yes, what reasons, — facts, facts, I mean ; no more 
guess-work here ; so speak out, sir, like an honest man, if you 
can.” 

“ I will, then,” promptly responded Elwood. “ You shall have 
facts, to your heart’s content ; I said what I did because I am 
convinced he is guilty.” 

“ Convinced ! ” sneeringly interrupted the other ; “ there it is 
again ; thrusting in sheer conjectures for evidence ! I must call 
on the court to interpose with the stubborn and wilful fellow. 
Didn’t I tell you, sir, I’d have no more of your guess-work ? 
Facts, sir, facts, or nothing.” 

“ Well, you shall have them, then,” replied the other, in a de- 
termined tone, “ for I know enough facts to convince me, at least, 
of his guilt. Both before and after we started on our expedi- 
tion, he threw out hints to me which I did not then quite un- 
derstand, but which, since this affair, I have recalled, and now 
know what they meant. He hinted, if I would fall into his plan 
and keep council, we might ” 

“ Might what?” sharply demanded the excited and alarmed 
attorney. “ Do you know you are under oath, sir ? Might 
what, I say ? ” 

“ Might get all the furs into our hands, and ” 

“Traitor! liar! scoundrel!” exclaimed Gaut Gurley, in a 
tone that sounded like the hiss of a serj)ent, as he bent forward 
and glared upon Elwood, with an expression so absolutely 
fiendish as to make every one in the room pause and shudder, 
and as to be remembered, and recounted, months afterwards, in 
connection with events which seemed destined to spring from 
this worse than fruitless trial. 

“ You was going to say,” said the attorney for the prosecu- 
tion, here eagerly pricking up and turning to the interrupted 
and now evidently discomposed witness, — “ you was going to 
say, he proposed that he and you should take all the furs to 

yourselves, and so rob the rest of the company ! ” 

16 


242 


GAtJT GtRLEY; OH, 


“ I can’t tell the words ; but I think he meant that,” replied 
Elwood, in more subdued tones. 

“ O ho,” exclaimed Gaut’s lawyer ; you now think, that is, 
you guess, he meant something that you didn’t dream of his 
meaning at the time he uttered it. Pretty evidence this; make 
the most of it ! ” 

“We will,” said the opposite counsel ; “ and I request the 
court to take it all down, together with the prisoner’s exclama- 
tions of traitor^ etc., which involves, indirectly, an admission that 
I shall remark on in the argument. Yes, let all this be noted 
carefully. It is important. It goes to show the previous de- 
sign, which, coupled with the identified furs, is, I trust the court 
will see, sufficient to fix the crime on the respondent, beyond 
all doubt or question.” 

“We will soon show you how much you will make out of 
your identified furs,” rejoined the other lawyer, with a confident 
and defiant air. 

“ Have you witnesses to introduce on the part of the de- 
fence ? ” asked the court. 

“ Yes, your honor ; but our most important one has not yet 
arrived. We are expecting him every minute.” 

At that moment, a shout of surprise and laughter, together 
with an unusual commotion in the yard, arrested the attention 
of all in the court-room ; and they mostly rushed to the door or 
windows to ascertain the cause, when they were amused to be- 
hold the young Indian, Toraah, driving into the yard, with his 
moose harnessed to a pung or sledge, of his own rigging up, on 
which — with reins and whip in hand — he sat as jauntily as a 
coachman, and almost with the same ease, apparently, brought 
his strange steed to a stand before the door. 

“Our witness has come!” exclaimed Gaut’s lawyer, exult- 
ingly. “ Mr. Sheriff, send out and bring him in. We will now 
dispose of this miserable prosecution, in short metre.” 

In a few minutes Tomah entered the room, and, readily com- 
prehending, — from a knowledge of the usages of courts he had 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


243 


obtained during his residence in the villages of the whites. — 
what was expected of him, now demurely advanced m front of 
the magistrate, raised his hand, and received the oath of a wi^ 
ness, lie was then shown the lot of furs that liad been identi 
fied by the hunters present, his attention directed -to the peculiar 
marks by which part of them had been distinguished, and he 
was asked if he had ever seen these furs, and noticed the 
marks on them, before. 

“ Yes, think so,” replied Tomah, quietly, as he rap’dly 
handled every large skin, and each parcel of the smaller ones, 
keenly noting the palpable marks shown him on the former, and 
every tie confining together the latter. “ Yes ; here bullet-holes 
on otter ; slit on this beaver ; cropt ear on that ; little fat back 
of fore-legs on rest of beaver ; wickape strings on that bunch 
sable; elm-bark tie on that; and beech twigs on that. Y’es, 
seen ’em all.” 

“ Where ? And how do you know the furs ? Tell the court 
all about it,” said Gaut’s lawyer, as an exultant smile played 
over his sardonic features. 

Well, now,” calmly and with his usual passionless cast of 
countenance replied Tomah, after a considerable pause ; “ well, 
this lot of skins all taken from the great lot taken by our com- 
pany up round the great lakes, this fall. I come back to settle- 
ment, three, four, five days, may be, ’fore the rest ; to see Itr 
moose, train him for Boston, and make sled; wanted my part of 
furs to sell right off, to bear expenses, and get off on journey 
soon. Mr. Gurley, then, after while, said he venture to divide 
off to me greater part of what I would get for my share of 
skins then got into the great camp. So He do it ; and I take 
my part, just this lot you show me here, and steer off with them 
to Bethel; but, ’fore got quite there, come cross pedlar and 
sold them cheap, for money, and go right back to Mr. Gurley’s, 
where moose was. Found Mr. Gurley home, too ; said he left 
all furs safe in camp ; come for provisions to carry back, to 
hunt one, two weeks longer ; but storm come, and he stayed to 


244 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


home, and soon heard all the men got home, too ; big storm, bad ; 
I no start for Boston yet, but most ready ; go soon, get heap 
of money for moose, certain.” 

The counsel for the prosecution and his clients — on hearing 
such a piece of testimony from a witness whom they themselves 
would have summoned, but for the belief that he would be so 
much under the influence and training of Gaut, that little could 
be drawn from him making against the latter — were taken so 
com{)letely by surprise, by the unexpected denouement^ that 
they all sat mute and dumb-founded for some moments ; both 
lawyer and clients being scarcely able to credit their own 
senses, and each hoping that the other had discovered some 
flaw in the testimony, by which it could be picked to pieces. 
But no such flaw or discrepancy could be discovered ; and the 
testimony, after the severe and prolonged cross-examination to 
which it was subjected by the rallying and desperate attorney, 
remained wholly unshaken, in every material part, standing out, 
in all its decisive force and effect, for the exclusive benefit of 
the respondent. Every person in the room, indeed, at length 
became convinced that the young Indian had told the truth, 
and that he could know nothing of Gaut’s guilt, though uncon- 
ciously made a witness in his favor ; with the view, probably, 
of meeting just such an exigency as had occurred in the pres- 
ent prosecution. 

The attorney for the prosecution, then, it being agreed to 
submit the case on the testimony now in, made a long and in- 
genious speech, abandoning the matter of the identified furs ; 
dwelling largely on Gaut’s dimly-hinted proposals to Elwood to 
join in the crime ; and, on the ground that he was the only 
person in a situation to burn and rob the camp, raising the 
violent presumption that he must liave perpetrated the double 
crime. 

Gaut’s lawyer then rose, with a confident and exultant air, 
and said he might, with the best reason in the world, make a 
plea to the jurisdiction of the court, since he had discovered 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


245 


that the camp which was alleged to have been burnt was situ- 
ated some miles within the boundary of Maine ; that no New 
Hampshire magistrate, of course, could take jurisdiction of the 
case ; and, that the respondent, on that ground alone, must be 
at once discharged, if he wished it. But he did not wish it. 
He courted a trial and de^'ision, on the merits of the case; 
which, after briefly urging the strong points of the defence, he 
submitted to the court. 

Tomah’s testimony had settled the case ; and, though nearly 
every one in the room, probably, were deeply impressed with 
suspicions of Gant’s guilt, yet all felt that the evidence was not 
suflicient for a legal conviction. And they were not surprised, 
therefore, when the court, after briefly commenting on the tes- 
timony, pronounced the full discharge of the prisoner. 

“ Ila, ha!” exclaimed Gaut, with a laugh so inconceivably 
devilish that his own lawyer, even, recoiled at the sound. “ Ha, 
ha ! ” he repeated, with a smile on his lips, made ghastly by the 
fires of concentrated malice that shot from his eyes. “ Wouldn’t 
my good frjends, here, like to try this game again ? ” 

“ Yes,” boldly retorted the hunter. “ Yes, and we shall, with 
evidence Heaven will direct us where to find. Your time hasn’t 
come. But it will come ! Gh)d ain’t dead yet 1 ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


*^Be Still the unimaginable lodge 
For solitary thinkings ; sucli as dodge 
Conception to tlie very bourn of Heaven, 

Then leave the naked brain ; be still fbe leaven 
That, spreading in this dull and clodded earth, 

Gives it a touch ethereal, a new birth.'’ Ksats. 

It is not to be supposed that a lawsuit, or prosecution, in so 
ncAv and remote a settlement, especially one that involved so 
many interests, and whose result must have so many and com- 
plicated bearings, as the one described in the la.st chapter, would 
be suffered to pass away like any ordinary occurrence and be 
forgotten. With the settlers, besides the novelty of having a 
court held among them, for any cause, it was an extraordinary 
occurrence that there should be any grounds for a prosecution 
or lawsuit of this character, — extraordinary that any one 
should be found base enough to violate the common faith and 
honesty which the trappers and hunters had, up to that time, so 
implicitly reposed in, and observed with each other, — and 
doubly extraoi’dinaiy that the perpetrator could not be detected 
and brought to punishment. To them, such a flagitious betrayal 
of trust was a new and startling event. They felt it deeply 
concerned them all ; and the sensation it produced was accord- 
ingly as profoufid as it was general, in all that region of the 
country. 

But, if such was the effect of the unfortunate occurrence in 
question, on the community at large, how much more deeply 
would the effect be naturally felt by the parties immediately 
concerned ? By the loss of their stock of furs, three families, 
at least, were deprived of the means on which they had relied 

( 246 ) 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


247 


for supplying them with a large part of the necessaries ol life, 
through the ensuing winter ; while, besides this, many a wife 
and cliild were doomed to sad disaj)pointment, in being thus 
deprived of the fondly-anticipated purchases of articles of cress, 
books, and various oiher little comforts, which had been prom- 
ised them on the division and sale of the peltries. Nor were 
these the only interests and feelings affected by the event and 
its concomitants. Friendships were broken, and even more 
tender relations were disturbed, if, indeed, their further exist- 
ence were not to be terminated. By the open, and as was 
suj)posed irreconcilable, quarrel between Mark Elwood and the 
terribly vindictive Gaut Gurley, their children, Claud and Avis, 
who were understood to be under mutual engagement of mar- 
riage, were placed in a position at once painful and embarrass- 
ing in the extreme. And Claud, especially, although he had 
carefully abstained from all accusations of Gaut, had taken no 
part in getting up the prosecution, and purposely absented him- 
self from the trial, yet felt very keenly the perplexing dilem- 
ma into which he would be thrown, by continuing the connect- 
ing link between two such deadly foes as he now found his 
father, whom he could not desert, and Gaut Gurley, whom 
he felt conscious he could not defend. And for this reason he 
had. from time to time, deferred the visit to Avis, which he had 
designed, and which she would naturally expect on his return 
from the expedition. But still he could not see how a quarrel 
between the fathers discharged him from his obligations to her; 
and he grew more and more doubtful and uneasy in the })osition 
he found himself occupying. He was soon, however, to be re- 
lieved. One day, a short time after the trial, while he was 
anxiously revolving the subject in mind, a boy, who had come 
as a s})ecial messenger from the Magalloway settlement (for the 
purpose, as it appeared), brought him the following letter : 

“ Dear Claud, — You do not know, you cannot know, what 
the effort costs me to write this. You do not know, you can- 


248 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


not know, what I have felt, what I have suffered since T be- 
came fully apprised of the painful circumstances under which 
your late expedition was brought to a close ; and especially 
since I became ap})rised of the lamentable scenes that occurred 
in the court, growing out of that unfortunate — O how unfortu- 
nate, expedition ! Before that court was held, and during the 
doubtful days which intervened between it and your escape from 
the terrible perils that attended your return, the hope that all 
would, all must turn out right, in some measure relieved my 
harrowing fears and anxieties ; though even then the latter was 
to the former as days of cloud to minutes of sunshine. But, 
when I heard what occurred at the trial, — the bitter crimi- 
nation and recrimination, the open rupture, the menaces ex- 
changed, and the angry parting, — and, more alarming than all, 
when I saw my father return in that fearful mood, from which 
he still refuses to be diverted, the last gleam of hope faded, and 
all became cloud, all gloom, — dark, impenetrable, and forbid* 
ding. ]\Iy nights, when sleep at length comes to close my 
weeping eyes, are passed in troubled dreams ; my days in more 
troubled thoughts, which I would fain believe were dreams 
also. O, why need this be ? I have done nothing, — you 
have done nothing ; and I have no doubt of your faith and 
honor for performing all I shall ever require at your hands. 
But, Claud, I love you, and all 

‘ Know love is woman’s happiness ; ’ 

and all know, likewise, that the ties of love are but gossamer 
threads, which a word may rupture, a breath shake, and even 
the power of unpleasant associations destroy. Still, is there 
not one hope, — the hope that this thread, hitherto so blissfully 
uniting our hearts, subtle and attenuated as it is, may yet 
be preserved unbroken, if we suffer no opinion, no word, no 
syllable to escape our lips, respecting the unfortunate affair 
that is embroiling our parents ; if we wholly deny ourselves 
the pleasure of that social intercourse which, to Twe, at least, 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


249 


has thus far made this wilderness an Eden of delight ? But 
can it be thus preserved, if we keep up that intercourse, as in 
the sunshine of our love, — those pleasant, fleeting, rosy months, 
when I w'as so happy, 0 so very happy, in the feelings of the 
present and the prospects of the future ? No, no, it is not pos- 
sible, it is not possible for you to come here, and encounter my 
father in such a mood, and then return and receive the upbraid- 
ings of your own, that you are joining or upholding the house 
of his foes. It is not possible for you to do this, and your 
heart receive no jar, and mine no fears or suspicions of its con- 
tinued fealty. I dare not risk it. Then do not, dearest Claud, 
O do not come here, at least for the present. Perhaps my 
dark forebodings, that our connection is not to be blessed for our 
future happiness, may be groundless. Perhaps the storm that 
now so darkly hangs -over us may pass harmlessly away. 
Perhaps this painful and perplexing misunderstanding — as I 
trust in Heaven’s mercy it only is — may yet be placed in a light 
which will admit of a full reconciliation between our respective 
families. But, till then, let our relations to each other stand, if 
you feel disposed to let . them, precisely as we left them at our 
last mournfully happy parting ; tor, till then, though it break 
my heart, I could never, never consent to a renewal of our 
intercourse. Have I said enough, and not too much ? I could 
not, under the almost insupportable weight of grief, fear, and 
anxiety, that is distracting my brain, and crushing my poor 
Jieart, — I could not say less, I dare not say more. O Claud, 
Claud, why has this dreadful cloud come over us ? O, pray that 
It may be speedily removed, and once more let in,on our pained 
and perplexed hearts, the sunshine of their former happiness. 
Dearest Claud, good-by ; don’t come, but don’t forget 

“Avis.” 

Claud felt greatly relieved, in some respects, by this unex- 
pected missive ; in others, the contents caused him uneasiness 
and self-condemnation. It relieved him from the sense of obU- 


250 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


gation he had entertained, to make the dreaded visit to the 
house of Gaut Gurley, — who, with every desire to arrive at a 
different conclusion, he could no longer believe guiltless of the 
basest of frauds, and the basest of means to conceal it. It 
relieved him, indeed, on this point ; but, as we have said, made 
him sad and thoughtful on others. The great grief and distress 
under whicli the fair writer was so evidently laboring, and the 
deep-rooted love for him which was revealed in almost every 
line, but which her pride, in the bright hours of their courtship, 
had never permitted her to disclose, keenly touched his feelings, 
and rose in condemnation of the comparative indifference, 
which, in spite of all his efforts to correct its waywardness, he 
felt conscious had been gradually stealing over his heart, since his 
admiration, to say the least, had been raised by a rival vision 
of loveliness. In the newly-awakened feeling of the moment, 
however, he bitterly upbraided himself tor his tergiversations in 
suffering his thoughts to vacillate between the Star of the 
Magalloway, who had his plighted faith, and Flower of the 
Lakes, who had no claims to his special consideration. But 
still, when his thoughts wandered over the scenes of the past 
summer, which now, since trial and hardship had brought his 
mind back within the dominion of reason and judgment, seemed 
much more like dreams than realities, — when he thought of 
the manner in which he became acquainted with Avis Gurley ; 
how lie persisted in gaining her affections, and kindling into an 
over-mastering flame his own fancy-lit love ; and finally, how, 
against the known wishes of his family, and the dictates of his 
own sober judgment, he had urged her into an engagement of 
marriage, which he could now see had, as his mother predicted, 
in all probability led to a renewal of the intimacy between his 
father and Gaut Gurley, and that last intimacy to the present 
disaster, and a new quarrel, whose consequences might yet well 
be looked for wdth uneasiness and apprehension, — wlien he 
thought of all this, he deeply condemned his own indiscretion, 
and could not help wishing himself clear from an engagement, 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


251 


which, like every thing connected with the schemes of that dark 
and dreaded man, who was now an object of suspicion through 
the whole settlement, seemed destined to lead only to trouble 
and disaster. Such was the maze of perplexity by which the 
young man, now too late for an honorable retreat, found him- 
self on every side thickly environed. Yet, for all this, and in 
despite of all these perplexities and misgivings, he resolved he 
would not cease to play the man, but honorably fulfil all his 
obligations in such manner as should be required of him. 

So much for the love and its hapless entanglements, which 
had been so deeply but so unsatisfactorily occupying, for the 
last few weeks, the thoughts of Claud Elwood , who then little 
suspected that there was another heart, besides that of the pure, 
proud, and impassioned Avis Gurley, whose every pulse, in the 
great unseen system of intermingling sympathies, beat in trem- 
bling vibration to his own, — a heart that had been won un- 
courted and unknown, — a heart that had secretly nursed, in 
the favoring solitudes of these wild lakes, and brooded over, a 
passion more deep and intense than words could well be found 
to describe. There was such a heart ; and that heart was now 
wildly beating, in the agonizing uncertainties of a hoped recip- 
rocation, in the bosom of that peerless child of the forest, the 
beautiful Fluella ; and all the more intense were its workings, 
because confined to its own deep recesses, where the hidden 
flame was laboring constantly for an outlet to its pride-walled 
prison, but as constantly shrinking in terror from the disclos- 
ure. She had once, however, through the violence of emotions 
which she could not control, accidentally betrayed the state of 
her feelings ; but it was to one in whose discretion and friend- 
ship she was soon made to repose undoubting confidence, and 
with whom, therefore, she at length became reconciled to let 
her secret remain. The person who had thus become the 
depositary of that secret was, as the reader may remember, 
Mrs. Elwood. The consciousness that this lady knew all, 
coupled as it was with the thought of the relation in which the 


252 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


latter stood to the object of her secret idolatry, had irresistibly 
drawn to her the yearning heart of the guileless maiden. She 
had longed for another interview, but dare not seek it ; longed 
for some excuse for opening a communication with her, but 
could not find one. At length, however, fortune opened the de- 
sired avenue ; and, after much hesitation and trembling, she 
summoned up the courage to avail herself of the offered oppor- 
tunity. Phillips, in his determination to ferret out the outrage 
which had been committed on him and his companions, and of 
the author of which he still entertained no doubt, had, immedi- 
ately after the trial, commenced a series of rapid journeys to all 
the nearest villages or trading towns in Maine and New Hamp- 
shire, to ascertain if any lot of furs, answering to those caught 
by his company, had been sold in those places. And one of 
these journeys, for Uiat and other purposes, he had extended 
to the seaboard. On his return home, he immediately repaired 
to his neighbor Elwood’s, and, unperceived, slipped into the 
hands of Mrs. Elwood a letter, which the wondering matron 
soon took to a private room, curiously opened, and, with a deep, 
undefined interest and varying emotions, commenced reading. 
It ran thus : 

Mrs. Elwood, my Friend, — Our Mr. Phillips has been 
h^re, and told us all that has happened in your settlement. 
Mrs. Elwood, I am greatly troubled at the loss your family 
suffer, with the rest of the hunters, but still more troubled and 
fearful for your husband and your noble son, about what may 
grow out of the quarrel with that dark man. My father knew 
him, time long past, and said there would be mischief done the 
company, when we heard he was going with them. I hope Mr. 
Elwood will keep out of his way ; and I hope, Claud, — O, I 
cannot write the thought. Mrs. Elwood, I am very unhappy. 
I sometimes wisli your brave and noble son had suffered me to 
go down and be lost in the dark, wild waters of those fearful 
rapids. By the goodness of my white father, whom I am proud 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


253 


to hope you may some time see with me in your settlement, 1 
have all the comforts and indulgences that a heart at ease could 
desire ; warm, carpeted rooms, di'css, books, company, smooth 
flatterers, who mean little, it may be, together with real friends, 
wdio mean much, and prove it by actions, which do not, like 
words, ever deceive. And yet, Mrs. 1^1 wood, they are all 
now without any charms for me. My heart is in your settle- 
ment. The grand old forest, and the bright lake, were always 
things of beauty for me, before I saw Mm ; but now, when asso- 
ciated with him, — O, Mrs. Elwood, if I did not know you 
had something of what I meant should forever be kept secret 
from all but the Great Eye, in your keej)ing, and if you had 
not made me feel you would be my discreet friend, and keep it 
as safe from all as an unspoken thought, I^would not for worlds 
write what I have, and what I every moment find my pen on 
the point of writing ,more fully. 0, how I wish I could make 
you understand, without words, what I feel, — how I grieve 
over what I almost know must be vain hopes, and vainer vis- 
ions of happiness ! You have sometimes had, it may be, veiy 
bright, delightful dreams, which seemed to bring you all your 
heart desired; and then you suddenly awoke, and found all had 
vanished, leaving you dark and sad wdth disappointment and 
regret. If you have, you may fancy what my thoughts are 
undergoing every hour of the day. O, how my heart is drawn 
away towards you ! I often feel that I must fly up, like a bird, 
to be there. I should come now, but for what might be thought. 
I shall certainly be there in early spring. I can’t stay away^ 
though I may come only to see what I could bear less easy 
than these haunting, troubled fancies. IMrs. Elwood, adieu. 
You won’t show this, or breathe a word about it, — I know you 
won’t; you could not be so cruel as that. Mrs. Elwood, may 
I not sign myself your friend ? Flu el la.” 

On perusing this unexpected communication, Mrs. Elwood felt 
—she scarcely knew herself wliat she felt, except a keenly appre- 


254 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

dating sense of the writei^’s embarrassed feelings, and except, 
also, the pleasurable emotions which this timid and tender out- 
pouring of an unsophisticated heart somehow afforded her. 
Ever since her singular interview with this remarkable girl, as 
described in a former chapter, Mrs. El wood had not ceased to 
think of her as of some good angel, sent by an interposing 
Providence, in answer to the agonizing supplications which im- 
mediately |)receded her unexpected appearance at the time, — 
sent to be the means, in some unforeseen way, of extricating 
her family from the fatal influences, as she viewed them, under 
which they had insidiously been brought by their different con- 
nections with the Gurleys. Especially had she been imjiressed 
that this would prove the case, in all that related to her idolized 
son, Claud ; whom, in her disregard to all considerations of lin- 
eage, when relieved by such excellence of beauty and chai'ac- 
ter, she would a thousand times rather have seen united to the 
Indian girl than to the oye he appeared to have chosen. She 
was, therefore, besides being touched by the broken pathos of 
the letter, gratified by its reception ; for it seemed to come as a 
sort of confii-mation of her grateful presentiment, that her son, 
at least, was to be happily disenthralled. Nor was she, at this 
time, without the evidence which led her to hope that her hus- 
band, also, had now finally escaped from the toils that had, once 
and again, caused him such calamity and suffering. The sud- 
den and terrible outbreak of indignation, which, with equal sur- 
prise and gratification, she had seen him exhibit against Gaut, 
and the quarrel in court, which followed in consequence, must, 
she thought, now forever keep them separate. If so, poorly 
as ner family could afford to suffer their part of the loss of the 
avails of the fall’s work, she would cheerfully bear it, and even 
look upon the event in the light of a Heaven-sent mercy. But 
even of this poor comfort she was destined soon to be de- 
prived. After the trial, Mark El wood — who, however bravely 
he bore himself at first, on that occasion, was finally seen ?o 
quail under the terrible glances of Gaut — soon became strangely 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


255 


Bilent respecting the prosecution and supposed perpetration of 
the offence about which he had before manifested so much zeal 
and indignation. And, in the active exertions which Phillips 
and Codman, in the vain search for evidence or some clue to the 
robbery of the furs, perseveringly kept up during the whole of 
the long and dreary winter that followed, he could not be induced 
to take any decided part. Nor would he, when they met him 
at his own house, or that of Phillips, as they several times did, 
that winter, to compare the discoveries and observations they 
had made, and discuss the subject, any longer maintain the po- 
sition he at first so boldly took, respecting Gaut’s guilt, or say 
any thing in aid of their deliberations. He^ indeed, as they 
grew more decided and convinced, seemed to grow more waver- 
ing and doubtful. Such was his demeanor and conduct in 
company of liis late companions ; while, with his own family, he 
appeared moody, iiresolute, and restless, and even, at length, he 
began to throw out occasional hints tending to defend or exten- 
uate the conduct of the very man whom, a few weeks before, 
he had so confidently denounced as a thief and a robber. 
Alarmed at these indications of returning weakness and fatuity 
in lier husband, Mrs. Elwood soon put herself on inquiry, to 
ascertain the cause ; and she was not long in making discov 
eries that more than justified her worst fears and suspicions. 

It apf)eared that Gaut Gurley, after his arrest, and after his 
escape from the punishment of the law, through the means, as 
was now generally believed, which he had cunningly provided 
before he entered on the commission of the offence charged, 
remained almost constantly at home, during nearly the wliole 
winter, brooding, in savage mood, over his own dark thoughts 
and varying schemes for advantage and revenge, keeping his 
family in continual awe of him, and causing all who ap- 
proached him to recoil, shuddering, from his presence, and mark 
him as a dangerous man in the community. Towards spring, 
however, he appeared suddenly to change his tactics, or, at 
least, to undergo a great change in his deportment and conduct* 


256 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


All at once, he came round in his usual manner. The dark 
cloud had been banished from his brow. He civilly accosted 
every acquaintance he met, appeared cheerful and jiood- 
humored, and desirous of prolonging tlie conversation with all 
with whom he came in contact, without seeming to notice, in 
tlie least, the evident inclination of most of the settlers to avoid 
his company. He ctime down, every few days, to the little 
village before named as the jdace where the court was held, 
and lounged for hours about the tavern ; which, during the 
winter season, was the common resort of the settlers. Here 
he soon encountered his old conij)anions, Phillips, Codrnan, and 
the Klwoods, all of whom, notwithstanding the cold and demure 
manner with which the two former, at least, turned away from 
him. he sainted with careless ease, and as if nothing had hap- 
pened to disturb their former social relations. And, having thus 
surmounted the somewhat difficult task of breaking the ice with 
them, without receiving the open and absolute repulse which, 
however disjjosed, they did not deem it wise to give him, he, at 
the next meeting, ventured to broach the sulqect of their late 
quarrel, affecting to laugh at their mutual exhibitions of lolly in 
getting so angry with each other in court, under the belief, on 
his part, that Uiey had got the furs, and, on their part, that he 
had nuule way with them ; when neither of them were guilty, 
and ought not to be charged with the offence. For himself, he 
said, he was now satisfied, on thinking the matter over, who 
were the real culprits. They were a couple of “ cussed runa- 
gate Indians,” that had strolled over from Canada, and, having 
discovered his camp, had laid in wait for his absence. He had 
seen the tracks of two different-sized moccasins in the sand on 
the lake-shore, but two days before he left ; but the circum- 
stance was forgotten, or he should not have left the camp un- 
guarded. It was a great loss for them all ; but it would not 
hel}) the matter to mourn now. It must be borne ; and he 
knew of no way to make it up but to try their luck in another 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 257 

expedition. He should, for his part ; for he had no notion of 
giving up so. 

Such was the drift of his conversation at this interview ; 
and, seeming to think he had ventured far enough for pne ex- 
periment on their credulity, he dropped that subject and struck 
off on to others. But the next time he met tliem lie contrived 
to turn the conversation upon the same theme ; when, telling 
them with a confidential air that, a few days before he left 
camp, he discovered, on a stream coming in at the upper end 
of the ^legantic, a succession of freshly-constructed beaver 
dams, which, from the number of houses and other indications 
around each, he thought must be occupied by one of the largest 
colonies of beavers ever collected on one stream in that part of 
the country, he directly proposed to them to join him, when the 
spring opened, in an expedition to secure this extraordinary 
collection of the valuable animals that were, unquestionably, 
still all there, and as unquestionably might be captured. 

This story, with the accompanying proposal, presented, as 
Gaut well knew, the most temj)ting inducement that could be 
offered, to trappers. But it made no _ impression on Phillips 
and Codman. They deeply distrusted the man, his whole story, 
and the motives which they believed moved him to concoct it. 
S))urning in their hearts, therefore, the bait that had been so 
artfully laid for them, they would have nothing to do with him 
or his proposal. And, both then and thereafter, they remained 
unmoved, and stood proof against all the arguments his taxed 
ingenuity and devilish cunning could invent and bring to bear 
upon them. 

With the infatuated Mark Elwood, however, the case 
seemed to be almost wholly reversed. He again listened, — 
was again lost. lie, restless, uneasy, and evidently apprehen- 
sive of something he did not disclose, from continuing under 
the terrible displeasure which Gaut had so significantly mani- 
fested towards him, — he had appeared, from the first, to hail 
with pleasure the indications of the relenting mood of the otheTj 


258 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


and seemed but too glad to be again noticed with favor. He 
could see no reason to distrust the man’s sincerity, he said, 
when others raised the question ; and he was much inclined to 
adopt his version of the robbery and burning of their camp. 
When, therefore, the proposal of a new expedition was made, 
under the circumstances we have named, the blinded hilwood 
seemed fully prepared to accept it ; and he would have openly 
and without reserve done so, but for the restraining presence 
of his companions, who, he felt conscious, would disajiprove and 
deprecate his conduct. Gaut had noticed all this, and was not 
long in bringing about a private interview^ with his dupe and 
victim, which resulted, as might be supposed, in settling the 
matter in just the way he intended. 

From that time, the conduct of Mark Elwood became wholly 
inexplicable to all his friends and acquaintances in the settle- 
ment. lie commenced with defending Gaut Gurley, thus 
giving the lie to all he had said, and ended with declaring an 
intention of accompanying him in another trapping expedition 
to the upper lakes, to be entered upon on a given day in 
April, then near at hand. And, in spite of all the advice and 
W'arnings of his late associates in the former disastrous cam- 
paign ; the remonstrances of his son, who shared in the ap|)re- 
hensions of the others ; and the agonizing tears and entreaties 
of his wife, he strangely persisted in his purpose, and, like the 
fated one of the Scriptures, steadily “ set his face ” towards 
his contemplated destination. 

“The man is hurried!'^ said Phillips to Codman, as they 
left El wood’s on a second and last visit, made with the sole 
object of dissuading him from a step which they shrank from 
themselves, — that of going into the distant forest with such a 
desperate fellow as they now deeply suspected Gaut Gurley to 
be, — “ the man is evidently hurried. When I saw that look 
Gaut gave Elwood in court, I knew he was marked for destruo 
tion, more especially than the rest of us, who are doubtless 
both placed on the same list. And Elwood would see it h:n> 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 259 

self, if he right-minded. Yes, he is hurried^ and can’t help 
it. He will go, and God grant my fears may not be realized.” 

And .he did go, but not alone. As soon as Claud became 
fully satisfied that his father’s purpose was not to be shaken, 
he began earnestly to debate in mind the question whether he 
himself should not, as a filial duty, become a particif)ant in the 
expedition, with the view of making his presence instrumental 
in averting the apprehended danger. And, although he per- 
ceived that his mother’s distress, all troubled and doubtful as 
she was in deciding between her conflicting duties of affection, 
would be enhanced by the step; and, although his mind had 
b<*en still more staggered by a brief confidential note from 
Avis Gurley, advising him, if not too. late, to find means to 
break up the project of the expedition entirely, yet he finally 
made up his mind in the affirmative. And, accordingly, on the 
morning of the appointed day, both father and son, after a 
leave-taking vvith the des])ondent wife and mother, more omin- 
ously sad and mournful than had ever before marked their 
family trials, set foi'th again for the wild wastes of the lakes, 
with their now doubly questionable compjuiion. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


**But there was weepinjj far away; 

And "cntle eyes, for liira, 

■With watching many an anxious day, 

Were sorrowful and dim.” 

Bkyant’s Murdered Traveller. 

It was the second week in May; and spring, delightful 
spring, sweet herald of happiness to all the living creatures 
that have undergone the almost literal imprisonment of one 
of the long and dreary winters of our hyperborean clime, was 
beginning to sprinkle the green glories of approaching summer 
over the reanimated wilderness. In the physical world, all 
seemed light and laughing around : 

“ the green soil with joyous living things 

Swarm’d, the wide air was full of joyous wings.” 

The sun, no longer feebly struggling through the dark, ob- 
structed medium of a northern winter’s atmosphere, was throw- 
ing abroad his clear, unstinted floods of living light, bathing 
with soft radiance the diversified face of the basking forest, 
and gleaming far and brightly over the soothed waters of the 
sleeping lake. The mild and genial zephyrs were discoursing 
the low, sweet, melancholy music of their seolian harps, among 
the gently- wavering tops of the whispering pines. The choral 
thi-ong of feathered songsters were filling every grove, glade, 
or glen, of field and forest, with the glad strains of their merry 
melodies. And all nature seemed crying aloud, in the fulness 
of her happiness, 

“ The summer is coming ; rejoice ye, rejoice ! " 

( 260 \ 


THE THAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


261 


So smiled every thing, animate and inanimate, in the visible 
physical world, as circumscribed to this secluded settlement, on 
the morning when opened the first scene in the closing act of 
our story’s changeful drama. But in the moral world, so far 
as the interests and feelings of most of our leading personages 
were involved, the skies were overcast with contrasted clouds 
of doubt and darkness. 

On that morning, at the Elwood Landing, on the western 
shore of Umbagog, stood a collected group of excited people, 
of different ages and sexes, gazing anxiously across the lake 
in the direction of the great inlet, as if expecting the appear- 
ance of some object or person from that quarter. But, before 
naming the cause of their assembling and the objects of their 
present solicitude, we will leave them a moment for a brief — 
but, for the understanding of the reader, necessary — recurrence 
to what had trans])ired, in the interim between the departure 
of the two Elwoodsand Gaut Gurley, and the present occasion. 

For nearly a month after her husband and son left home, 
Mrs. Elwood had been wholly unable to obtain any tidings of 
them, or any information even of their locality on the upper 
lakes. And gloomily, O how gloomily, with her, passed the 
long and dreary days and sleepless nights of that dismal period ! 
Little had occurred to vary the monotony of her harrowing 
anxieties ; and that little tended rather to increase than relieve 
them. For, even from the limited intercourse she had with 
families of the settlers, — although their conversation, out of 
regard to her feelings, was restrained and guarded, when the 
subject nearest her heart was introdu«*ed, : — she gathered the 
fact that she was not alone in her fears and anxieties, but that 
they were shared, to a greater or less extent, by the people of 
the whole seUlement; among whom the subject was being daily 
discussed, at every fireside, vvith avowed apprehensions that 
some fearful fate was awaiting one or both of the Elwoods, in 
their sojourn in the forest, in whose dark recesses there would 
be no witnesses to restrain the evil-doer from the purposes of 


262 


GAUT GURLEY ) OR^ 


rolibery and revenge which they generally believed he secretly 
entertained. But, among all the settlers, no one had exliibited 
so much anxiety and restlessness as the hunter, Phillips. He 
had been almost continually absent from home, evidently to 
distant places, but where and with what objects he declined to 
make known. The direction and object of one of these secret 
journeys, however, was inferred from the unexpectedly early 
return of Fluella, the lovely maid of the forest, who had no 
sooner reached her old home than she flew to the Elwood cot- 
tage, to mingle her tears and sympathies with those of the 
anxious and troubled matron; who, in the circumstances, could 
have received no more acceptable visit. With the opening 
of the season, also, other absentees had returned to the settle- 
ment. Carvil had come back, to ascertain v/hat had been 
effected in relation to the supposed robbery of the furs, the fail 
before, having intrusted his interests to the care of Phillips; 
and now feeling, with the others, apprehensive for the result of 
the new expedition, he was anxiously awaiting the return of 
the absent trappers. Tomah, the eccentric young Indian, like- 
wise had surprised the settlers, by his sudden reapj)earance 
among them, in a suit of superfine broadcloth, hat and boots 
to match, gold watch, showy seals, and all the gewgaw etceteras 
that go to make up the animal they call a city dandy. He had 
sold his moose, it appeared, for four hundred dollars, and 
brought nearly the whole of it home on his bedizened person, — 
with the object, as he soon admitted, of dazzling the hitherto 
cbdjrate Fluella. 

“ Yes, — catch her sartain, now,” he said, with a complaisant 
glance over his dashing rig, on departing for the chiefs, as 
soon as he ascertained the fair object of his pursuit had returned 
to her father’s. But he soon came back, in a great miff, and 
offered to sell the whole of his tine new outfit for just one half 
what it cost him. Contrary to expectation, he declared he 
would have nothing more to do with Gaut Gurley; concerning 
whom he had seen something, about the time of the trial, to 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


2G3 


awaken his suspicions, and against whom he now evidently 
stood ready to array himself, with the rest, on the next occasion. 

With these few incidents, April passed away, and the first 
day of May, the usual limit of the fur season, had arrived; 
but with it the absent trappers had failed to make their appear- 
ance. Another week passed, and still they came not. “ What 
could it mean ? ” was on every tongue. Men ominously shook 
their lieads^ and women and children began, in the connection, 
to talk in suppressed voices of the dark character of Gaut 
Gurley. 

At this juncture, word came that Gaut had returned, and 
had several times been seen about his Kome. A man was im- 
mediately dispiitched to Gain’s residence, for inquiries about the 
Elwoods ; but the messenger returned and reported that Gaut 
said he parted with them on the Maguntic, — he to go over the 
mountains to his home, on the Magalloway, and they, in their 
canoe, that had been frozen up in Oipjossak, the fall before, to 
go to Bethel to sell their furs. Further than this, he knew 
nothing about them. 

“ I don’t believe a word of it ! ” exclaimed the hunter, who 
with many others had anxiously awaited, af the tavern, the 
messenger’s return ; “ not one word of it ! They would not 
have gone oflT to Bethel after such an absence, before returning 
home ; or, if they had, they would have been here before this 
time. But the story shall be investigated without twelve hours 
delay. It is time we were moving in the business. Who will 
furnish me with a good saddle-horse ? ” 

The horse was furnished ; and within half an hour the ex- 
cited hunter was speeding his way to Bethel. 

He returned early the next morning, in a state of still greater 
excitement and concern tlnm before; having ridden all night, in 
his anxiety to reach tlie settlement by the time people wei’e 
up, so that immediate measures might be put afoot to scour the 
country in search of the missing Elwoods, whose continued ab- 
sence had now become doubly mysterious and alarming, by the 


264 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


discovery he had made, as he feared he should, that they had 
not gone to Bethel at all, nor been seen or heard of anywhere 
in that direction. 

The news of Gaut’s return alone, his improbable story, and 
the discovery of its almost certain falsity, spread like wild-fire 
over the settlement ; and the people, already prepared to believe 
the worst by their previous suspieions of Gaut’s evil designs, 
rose up as one man, instinctively shuddering at the thought of 
the apprehended crime, and feeling irresistibly impelled to at- 
tempt something to bring about that fearful atonement which 
Ileav^en demands of every man who wilfully sheds the blood 
of his fellow-man. So deep and absorbing was this feeling, 
indeed, in the present instance, that men dropped their hoes in 
the field, left their axes sticking in the trees, and threw aside 
all other kinds of business, and, with excited and troubled looks, 
hurried off to the scene of action, to see, hear, and join in what- 
ever movement the exigencies of the case might require to be 
made. And before night nearly the whole of the settlers, re- 
siding within a circuit of a dozen miles of the surrounding 
country, had assembled at the tavern in the rustic hamlet, 
which, as before mentioned, they made, on all extraordinary 
occasions, the place of their common rendezvous. Here, after 
conversing a while in scattered groups, exchanging in low, hur- 
ried tones, and with many an apprehensive glance around them, 
their various opinions and conjectures, they gradually gathered 
in one room in the tavern, formed themselves into something 
like an organized meeting, and began their deliberations. But, 
before they had settled on any definite course of action, their 
attention was suddenly turned from the channel their minds 
were all evidently taking, by a new and unexpected occur- 
rence. 

Two young men, who had that day been across the lake to 
the Great Rapids, for the purpose of fishing, returned to the 
village about sunset, with the news that they had discovered, at 
the foot of the most dangerous pass of the rapids, wedged in 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


2G5 


among the projecting flood-wood of the place, a partially- 
wrecked and stove canoe, wliich they both recognized as the 
one kept by the El woods at their landing last summer, and, .of 
course, the one they took away with them in their Succeeding 
fall expedition. This fact, all at once readily perceived, might 
throw an entirely new aspect over the whole of the mysterious 
affair; and they soon decided on dispatching the same young 
men, at daybreak the next morning, across the lake, to examine 
carefully both shores of the inlet up to, and some distance be- 
yond, the place where they found the canoe, to see if they could 
find any thing else, or discover any indications going to show 
that anybody had been wrecked and dro’wned there ; then to 
return, as quickly as possible, with the wrecked canoe in tow, 
and whatever else they might find, to the Elwood landing; 
where the company would assemble, by the middle of the fore- 
noon, to receive them, hear their report, examine the canoe, 
and take action according to the circumstances. 

It was done ; and this was the occasion of the assembling at 
the landing of the mingled and anxious group which we began 
to describe near the commencement of 'this chapter, and to 
which we will now return. 

Foremost in the mingled group of people which we have 
thus brought to view, was the agonized wife and mother of the 
missing or lost men ; whose doubtful fate was also engrossing, 
though less intensely, every thought and feeling of the sympa- 
thizing company around her. She had gradually worked her- 
self down to the extremest verge of the low shore, and had 
unconsciously placed one foot in the edge of the water, as if 
irresistibly drawn to the farthest possible limit in the supposed 
direction of those two objects of her affection, who, alive or 
dead, were still her all-in-all of this world ; and there she stood, 
slightly inclined forward, but motionless, mute, and pale as a 
marble statue, with lips painfully compressed, and eyes, glazed 
and watery, intently fixed on the opposite shore of the lake 
to which she was looking for relief, at least from the terrible 


266 


GAUT GURLEY ] OR, 


6usp<'nse under which she was suffering. By her side, a little 
back, stood the wife of the hunter, and two or three other 
women of the vicinity, who had more particularly interested 
themselves in her troubles, — some shedding sympathetic tears, 
and some offering an occasional word, which they hoped might 
in a slight degree divert her sorrows or console her in her an- 
guish. But, alike regardless of their falling tears and soothing 
remarks, she gazed on, in unbroken silence, hour after hour, 
taking no note of time, or any object around her, in the all-ab- 
sorbing intensity of her feelings. Little, indeed, was said by 
a7iy of the company. The younger portion stood in hushed 
awe at the sight of grief in the older, and at the thouglit of 
what might the next hour befall. And the men, though visibly 
exercised by strong emotions, and occasionally revealing a 
trembling lip or starting tear, as they glanced at the face of 
the chief sufferer, yet offered scarce a remark to relieve the 
pervading gloom of the sad and anxious, hour. The whole 
group, indeed, might have been taken for a funeral cortege, 
awaiting on the shore the expected remains of some deceased 
friend. 

After standing in this manner till nearly noon, the com- 
pany caught sight of a scarcely-perceptible object on the water, 
in the direction of the great inlet. And, although for some 
time it appeared like a speck, as seen against the low, green 
fringe of the opposite and far-distant shore, yet it at length so 
enlarged on the vision that the form of a canoe and the gleam 
of flashing oars became distinctly discernible. Soon a little 
variation in the line of approach brought not only the canoe 
and the rowers, but another canoe in tow, plainly in view; and 
then all knew that their j)ainful suspense was about to be ended- 
Another half-hour had to be passed by the company, who still 
stood there in trembling expectation, awaiting the approach of 
the canoes ; when, as the latter now came within hailing dis- 
tance, the impatient hunter stepped dowm to the water’s edge, 
and called out : 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


267 


What news do you bring ? ” 

“ None ! but we have brought the canoe.” 

“I see; but have you made no discoveries?” 

None whatever.” 

“ No caps, packs, or bunches of furs washed up anywhere ? ” 

“ No, notiling. We examined thoroughly both shores of the 
rapids, and found nothing, and no mark or sign of any thing 
about which any conclusion could be formed respecting the 
manner tlie canoe got there.” 

“ But the oars ? ” 

“ We found them in the same flood-wood with the boat, and 
they appeared as if they were thrown out of the canoe when it 
struck.” 

Tiie canoe, wliicli was the object of scrutiny, and which had 
been injured much less than had been supposed, a break in 
the ujijier part of the bow being the only ruptured part, was 
now drawn up on the shore ; when Phillips, Codman, and 
Tornah look upon themselves to go into a minute and careful 
inspection of every part of its outer and inner surface, together 
with every appearance from which any inference having the 
least biMiring on the question at issue could be drawn by these 
experienced and observing canoe-men. 

'‘Men no leave oars in canoe, when go over falls,” at length 
observed the Indian, standing back with the air of one who has 
satisfied himself with an examination, — “no leave oars that 
way ; have them out to use; and then, when upset, drop ’em in 
the river ; where get scattered, go down, wash up different 
places, mile apart, may be, — not together, right close side of 
canoe, likely. Don’t believe so much story, like that come to.” 

“ Spoke like a man who knows something,” said the trapper, 
the next to offer comments. “ And here is a loosened slip-knot 
in the end of this bark boat-rope, which I have been looking 
at. See ! it has been drawn into a fixed knot, that hasn’t been 
altered since it has had considerable use and steady pulling 
through it, as I see by the chafed bark inside the small hole 


268 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


within the knot. The hole is too small to have been brought 
into this shape by hitching it to a stake or projecting limb of a 
tree on shore. It looks exactly as if a tie attached to some 
other canoe had been passed through it, to draw this canoe 
along by ; and here is a slight mark of a knife, where that 
tie has been cut out, owing to the difficulty of untying. This 
canoe must have been hitched behind some other canoe, and 
towed down to the head of the rapids, and there sent adrift.” 

“ Yes,” responded the hunter, who had been particularly con- 
fining his attention to the outer and top edges along the sides 
of the boat ; “ yes ; and here is the moss or scurf that had gath- 
ered on these upper edges, on both sides, during the snows and 
thaws of winter, still remaining entire and unbroken, in every 
part of this delicate weather coating, which even a thumbnail, 
as you see, can’t pass over without marring it or leaving a 
mark. No man could have rowed this canoe twenty rods with- 
out grazing these edges and leaving marks on them. Yes, 
you are both right. This canoe, which I suppose you all agree 
was Mr. Elwood’s, has not been rowed since he left it hauled 
up on the shore of the Oquassah last fall, to be buried by the 
great snow-storm ; and the Elwoods are both safe, for all being 
wrecked and drowned from that boat, or any other, I pre- 
sume.” 

The countenance of Mrs. El wood, who stood at some little 
distance from the spot where the examination of the canoe had 
been going on, but near enough to hear most of what was said, 
visibly brightened at this announcement. The hunter saw the 
expression, and a shade of anguish passed over his face, as, 
turning to those immediately around him, and speaking in a low, 
subdued, and commiserating tone, he resumed : 

“ I cannot find it in my heart to dampen the new-lighted 
hope which this turn of the affair seems to give that poor, 
wretched wife and mother. But, to my mind, all this makes it 
doubly certain that the liilwoods have met with foul play. It 
looks exactly like one of Gaut’s devilish schemes of finesse, to 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMEAGOG. 


263 


cause this canoe to be sent down* the rapids, and be so found 
as to lead follvs to suppose the owners were drowned, and to 
put the public on a hxlse scent. Yes, friends, you may depend 
there has been foul play, — I dare not guess how foul. I have 
felt it the last fortnight, as if some unseen hand was writing 
the dreadful secret on my heartr. I feel it still, now stronger 
than ever. And I call God to witness my resolution, that I 
will know no rest or relaxing till I vsee the dark deed laid open 
to day, and its infernal author brought to justice. Will you 
all join me in the work, without flinching or flagging?” 

The low but firmly-responded “ Yes, yes, all of us,” told the 
hunter that he would know no lack of efficient aid in carrying 
out his resolution. 

“ Let us, then,” he said, “ leave the women and boys, a few 
minutes, and retire back here a few rods, out of their hearing, 
to determine on the first steps to be taken.” 

In accordance with this suggestion, the men withdrew, by 
themselves, to a convenient place on the site of an old camping- 
ground, within the forest, a few rods farther up the lake, leav- 
ing Mrs. Elwood and her female attendants slowly retracing 
their steps back to her house, from which they had accompa- 
nied her to this spot, and the boys amusing themselves in seeing 
who could throw a stone farthest into the lake. The men, now 
relieved fi’om the fear of causing Mrs. Elwood^ needless alarm, 
and of having their remarks reported by others of the mingled 
corniiany, — to the injury, perhaps, of the investigation on hand, 
— at once gave vent to their smothered convictions, and feelings 
of indignation and horror, in an exciting debate; which soon re- 
sulted in the determination to dispatch, the next morning, four 
men in two canoes up the lakes, in search of the missing, or 
such traces of them as might lead to a discovery of their fate; 
whihi the rest should remain in the settlement, to watch for 
new indications there and keep a vigilant eye on the move- 
meftts of the bold but wary villain, whom they all believed to 
be the perpetrator of the supposed outrage. But, before they 


270 


GAUT gurlet; or, 


had fully settled the details of their plan, their attention was 
arrested by a shouting from the boys, who announced that a 
strange canoe was approaching them from the other part of the 
lake. Hearing this, and thinking the new-comer might have 
perhaps arrived from the upper lakes, and could give them im- 
portant information, the men immediately suspended their con- 
sultation, and came out to the landing to hail him, or to await 
his approach. They soon discovered that the rower was an 
Indian, and it was not long before the trapper began to recog- 
nize the canoe, from some peculiarity about the bow, to be his 
own, and the one he had left with the boats of his companions 
on the Oquossak the season before. This, if true, might lead 
to important developments ; and the company kept their eyes 
keenly fixed on the rower, to see if he would manifest any dis- 
position to avoid them. But he kept steadily on towards the 
landing, and, in another minute, was within near hailing dis 
tance. 

“ Ilillo ! my red friend, where did you get that canoe ? ” cried 
the trapper. 

‘.‘Tell you soon, — you make me believe you right to know,* 
quietly replied the native, without appearing to be in the leas! 
disturbed by the question, or any inference which might natu- 
rally be drawji from it. 

“ Well, I can make you believe I have a right to know, if 
you are willing to believe ; for I can swear the canoe is my 
own, and prove it, too, by some of these gentlemen,” returned 
the trapper, with warmth. 

“Maybe, — we see soon,” responded the other, an intelli- 
gent, good-looking, middle-aged Indian, now slipping ashore and 
firmly confronting the company. 

“ Now tell us where you got it, sir,” again sharply demanded 
fhe trapper. “ I have offered to swear to my ownership, and 
prove it ; so tell how .you came, by it, unless you would have us 
believe you stole it.” 

“ Stole it ? ” reproachfully said the Indian. “ Ask that man,*' 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOO. 271 

he added, pointing to Carvil, whom he appeared to have previ- 
ously recognized, — “ask him, if me do thing like that?” 

“Moose-killer, is this you?” exclaimed Carvil, who had 
been eying the stranger Indian with a hesitating air. “ 1 
thought, from the first, I knew you, but couldn’t quite decide. 
IMoose-killer, I am glad you have come. We are just at this 
time trying to search out a dark affair, which we fear has hap- 
pened, and with which this boat you came in may possibly be 
connected. We should be glad to make a few inquiries of you, 
wdien you are ready to hear them. There need,” he added, 
turning to the trapper and the others, “ there need be no fear 
but this man will tell a true story; I have met him on the 
Great Megantic, where he goes by the name I have called him, 
on account of his well-known expertness in moose-killing.” 

The Indian started at the significant allusion which had been 
made to the subject that was then engaging the attention of 
those present, and its possible connection with his canoe ; and, 
with unusual promptness for one of his demure and slow- 
speaking race, announced himself ready to tell his story. 

“ Moose-killer is about to speak,” said Carvil, looking round 
on the eagerly expectant company. “ We will all listen. 
What he will say will be true.” 

“Hear, in my country,” thereupon began Moose-killer, in 
the abbreviated, broken, and sententious language peculiar to 
the Red Man, — “ hear, in my country, beaver bring more this 
side the mountains ; so come over, and been to Bethel-town to 
sell ’em. Come over mountai?is, down piece, the river you call 
Magalloway, — then strike off down to big lake, Megantic. 
Then follow shore long way ; but stop sudden, — start back! 
See much blood on the leaves, — trail all along down to the 
water. Them go back, look again, — find where man fall, bleed 
much, — die, — lay there till dead quite. Man, because see 
where hands catch hold of moss, leaves, — feet kick in ground. 
All dead, because feet limber and no catch in brush dragging 
to shore, — find where canoe hitch to shore, — dead man put in, 


272 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


rowed away, sunk in lake, likely. Look all over ground again, 
much time, — then come on long way, and find that canoe, hid 
in bushes, — take it, go sell beaver, — then come here quick to 
tell story, see who missing.” 

We will not undertake to describe the intense excitement 
which this brief but pregnant story of the Indian produced on 
the company, who , though hoping to gather something irom 
him that might be of use in the inquiry on hand, were yet little 
expecting a development so startling as this. They — espe- 
cially those but little acquainted with the Indian character — 
could, at first, hardly believe that a story of such horrors, 
if true, could be told so quietly, and with so little apparent feel- 
ing, as the narrator had exhibited during his recital ; and they 
immediately subjected him to a long and close cross-examina- 
tion. Nothing, however, was elicited to weaken his story, but 
some things to confirm it. Among these was a faint stain of 
blood, which Moose-killer pointed out to the company, in the 
bow of the canoe, and wliich was evidently but lately made , 
while the size and height of the man, supposed to be murdered, 
which the Indian judged of by a similar curious process with 
that by which he reached his other conclusions, were seen to 
correspond with the dimensions of the elder Elwood ; who was 
believed to be the man thus indicated, though it left the fate of 
Claud still shrouded in mystery. 

“ Poor Mark Elwood ! ” exclaimed the hunter, with a sigh, 
as they closed their examination of the Indian. “ He is dead; 
whatever may have become of his son, for whom there is still 
some hope, Ae, at least, is dead ! murdered in cold blood ! and 
who need doubt the identity of the accursed author of the 
deed?” 

“ This is, certainly, something like tangible evidence,” re- 
sponded Carvil, whose former studies enabled him to speak 
more understandingly, in the matter of legal evidence, than his 
companions. “ And, though it is still only circumstantial, yet, 
when taken in connection with Gaut’s false story, and all other 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


275 


of the attending circumstances, it stands out most remarkably 
significant against the man ; and, even without any additional 
proof, it would, I think, warrant us in arresting him.” 

“ In God’s name, then, let it be done, before he escapes from 
the country ! ” cried the hunter, with startling emphasis. “ But 
we must all keep the discoveries we have made to-day, as well 
as the movements we may now make, as secret as death, lest 
he hear of them and take the alarm.” 

An earnest consultation was then held, and a plan of opera- 
tions soon adopted. By this it was arranged that Moose-killer 
— who, when he had gathered what was known of Gaut Gur- 
ley, and obtained a description of his person, entered into the 
arrangements with an unexpected alacrity — it was arranged 
that Moose-killer, Carvil, Tomah, and two of the settlers? 
should start immediately up the lakes, in further seai’ch for the 
body of Mark Elwood (whose fate was now treated as settled), 
and, also, for a more general search round the two upper lakes 
for his son, Claud ; who, it was hoped, had by some means been 
separated from his father, and suffered to escape, despite the 
im[)robability that he would remain so long absent, if nothing 
had befallen him. Phillips also concluded to accompany them 
as far as the next lake above, to see the chief and his daughter, 
to confide to them the discoveries of the day, and put them 
on the lookout for further indications. The rest of the com- 
pjiny were to return quietly and separately, as far as could con- 
veniently be done, to the village, and there remain till after 
dark ; when two of their number were to ride, as fast as horses 
could carry them, to Lancaster, for warrants, a sheriff, and his 
posse, to be on the ground as early as possible the next morn- 
ing; while others were to proceed up the Magalloway, and lurk 
round in the woods within sight of the house of Gaut Gurley, 
as spies on his movements. 

The company then separated on their several destinations ; 
and, during the remainder of the afternoon, nothing occurred 

in the settlement which need here be mentioned, except the 

18 


274 GAUT GURLEr. 

secret and cautiously-made preparations for the proposed action 
of the night, that, though imperceptible to the uninitiated, were 
yet actively going on at the village. About sunset, however, 
the hunter returned from his visit to the chiefs ; but in a state 
of no little perplexity and concern, at an event which he unex- 
pectedly found had there occurred. This was the unaccounta- 
ble absence of Fluella, who, without apprising her father of 
her intentions, had secretly left home several days before. As 
the hunter had depended considerably on the girl’s acuteness 
and means of observation at the commanding point of her resi- 
dence, he was both disappointed and puzzled at her absence 
And, as he had been debating with himself, on his way across 
the lake, whether he had not better call on Mrs. El wood, and 
take the first step towards gradually preparing her mind ibr the 
worst, in regard to her husband, he now resolved to do so, with 
the further object of . getting her version of Fluella’s absence 
at such a juncture. Accordingly, he called at the house; and, 
seeing the afflicted woman’s entreatingly expectant looks, he at 
once entered on his painful task by hinting his fears for the fate 
of her husband; when, somewhat to his surprise, she cut him 
short by sadly remarking : 

“ I know it all.” 

“ How ? — what have you heard ? ” eagerly asked the hunter. 

“ I don’t know it by what I have heard,” she replied, in the 
same sad accents ; “ for I have heard less, perhaps, than you ; 
but I knew it would be so, from the hour he departed. And, a 
few days ago, my heart received a shock. It was from the 
same blow that killed him. Yes, poor Mr. El wood is dead! 
I have buried him ! But my son Claud — O, my son Claud I ” 
The astonished hunter then told her of the singular absence of 
Fluella ; when, again to his surprise, she started up, and joy- 
fully exclaimed, “ lie lives! — though in danger, perhaps, he 
lives, and I shall see him again ! ” 

Wondering whether her reason was not unsettled, the hunter 
departed, and hurried on to the village. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


** What justice ever other judfjment taught. 

But he should die who merits not to live.” 

Spbxseb. 

About the middle of the afternoon, on the day next succeed- 
ing the eventful one which was marked by the occurrences nar- 
rated in the last chapter, a cavalcade of about a dozen men on 
horseback, followed by a single wagon, containing some fire-arms, 
two or three pairs of iron handcuffs, and a few other articles 
of luggage, came clattering down the road from the west, to- 
wards the tavern with which the reader has already been made 
familiar. The men, who had been dispatched for the shire- 
town of the county, had ridden hard all night, reached the place 
at daylight, drummed up the officers of justice, got them started 
at an early hour, and urged them on with such speed that, within 
twenty hours, they had arrived at the scene of action. After 
the halt of an hour at the tavern, for rest and refreshment, and 
a brief consultation with the settlers, the sheriff, and his posse, 
now swelled by volunteers from the settlement, set forth, under 
the guidance of Phillips, for the residence of the supposed 
criminal, calculating to reach there about dusk, — the hour they 
deemed most favorable for making the arrest. After proceed- 
ing in silence about two-thirds of the way to their destination, 
they halted, to make their final preparations and arrangements 
for the onset ; when, knowing the great strength and desperate 
character of the man with whom they would have to deal, they 
first carefully prepared their fire-arms, and then detailed a half- 
dozen of their number, most conversant with the locality, to go 
forward, spread themselves around the borders of Gaut’s clear- 

( 275 ) 


276 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


ing, and cautiously advance to the house, so as to head off 
any attempt he might make to escape, when the main body 
made their appearance. All the time spent in these precau- 
tions, however, as w'ell as this whole jaunt thus far up the river, 
was destined to be mostly lost ; for, as the company were again 
beginning to move forward, they were met by the scouts, dis- 
patched the night before, hurrying back, most of them in a dis- 
abled condition, and with the report that Gaut had escaped 
about an hour before. They had lain in their coverts all day, 
and in the fore part of it nothing had been seen to excite their 
suspicions ; but, towards night, they noticed him cleaning his 
rifle and pistols, as near as they could judge, and then, soon after, 
bringing out a pack and placing it by the side of his rifle at the 
door ; and scarcely had they time to concentrate before he came 
out, shouldered his pack, took his arms, and proceeded towards 
a canoe moored on the bank of the river. They then instantly 
resolved to intercept him ; and, running for the spot, came up to 
him just as he had laid his rifle in the boat ; when he turned 
upon them with the suddenness and fury of a pursued tiger ; 
seized the foremost, who had laid his hands on the canoe, and, 
with giant strength, threw him headlong into the river; hurled 
the second with stunning effect on the ground ; knocked down a 
third with his fist ; leaped into his canoe, sent it swiftly across 
the stream, ran up the opposite bank, and disappeared in the 
woods, before they had recovered from their confusion, or 
thought of having recourse to their rifles to stop him. 

“ Slipped through our fingers and gone ! ” said the sheriff, 
with an air of chagrin and disappointment. 

“ Yes, for this onset,” said Codman, the next to volunteer 
remarks in the provoking nonplus in which they now all found 
themselves. “Yes, but I should like mightily to know how he 
got wdnd of our movements ? If the devil didn’t tell him, I 
don’t ihink he done as well by his friend as he ought.” 

“ Perhaps,” rejoined the sheriff, after the laugh of some and 
the approving glances of others, which had followed the char- 


THE TRAPPERS OF tJMBAGOG. 


277 


acteristic remark of the trapper, had passed away, — “perhaps 
he, or some of his family, caught a glimpse of these scouts 
round their clearing during the day ; or perhaps he has an 
accomplice, or tool, vvdiom he had engaged to watch public move- 
ments, and bring him word.” 

“ I have thought of some such thing, myself,” remarked 
Phillips. “ In the case of his robbing our camp, last fall, I felt 
quite confident he must have had some accomplice, or some 
secret agent, to take off the furs for him. If he has such an 
one now, I think it must be a Jesuit priest, as I have heard 
that such a looking personage has, once or twice, been seen at 
Gaut’s house since he moved into the settlement.” 

“ Well, if the villain has such a character as that in tow, he 
would be devil enough for all common purposes,” responded the 
sheriff. “ But, however all that may be, I fear 'he has struck a 
line for Canada, and this is the last we shall ever see of him in 
this country.” 

“ Not for Canada,” confidently said the hunter ; “ for I know 
enough about him to make me feel quite sure that he will never 
again trust his head within reach of British authority.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the sheriff, “ what is it you know ? ” 

“I think it had better not be told just yet,” answered the 
other, decisively. “ Let us first see whether he can’t be caught 
and hung here, for his last crying offence.” 

“ But do you think he can yet be overtaken, and arrested ? " 
asked the former. 

“ Certainly I do,” returned the hunter, with earnest confi 
dence. “ He must, and shall^ be taken ! God’s curse is on the 
man ; and he will never, I tell you, never be suffered to escape 

US. 

“ Well, then,” resumed the sheriff, thoughtfully, “what course 
do you think he will take, and where secrete himself, so that he 
can be found ? I, on my part, stand ready to do every thing in 
my power to bring the miscreant, of whose guilt I think there 
can now be but little doubt, to immediate justice. Now, as you 


278 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


are sakl to be a man of observation and energy, Mr. Philips, 
let as have the benefit of your opinion and advice in the 
mattej 

“ It is my opinion,” said the hunter, in response, after drop- 
ping 1 -is head a moment in study, “ it is very clearly my opin- 
ion tlvat the fellow will now aim to reach some of the eastern 
cities, — ever the Umbagog, most likely, in a canoe that he kee[)s 
conccnled somewliei-e on the western shore, which is only a mile 
or two over this ridge, that rises from the other bank of the 
river, here against us. He will not be likely to come back to 
his house, or the river, where he will still suppose we are on 
the watch ; nor will he start out on the lake till after dark, lest 
he be seen, and his course traced ; but lie concealed till that time 
in seme of the ditlicult rocky steeps that shut down to the 
lake.” 

“ Your ideas of his probable aims and movements appear 
reasonable, INIr. Phillips. Now, what are the steps you would 
advise to be taken for his apprehension ? ” asked the sherilf. ' 

“Well, my ])lan would be something like this,” replied the 
hunter, musingly. “ I would post half a dozen men, for the 
night, — to be relieved in the morning, — a half mile or so apart, 
along this river, above and below here, to be walking back and 
forth, and occasionully firing a gun. The others go back, and 
a sufiicient number get on to the lake before dark to have 
canoes in station every quarter of a mile along the western 
shore. Codman, you will be a good hand to manage this com- 
patiy. As for myself, I will wade the river somewhere herea- 
bouts, go over through the woods to the lake-shore, be mousing 
round the shore a little, in search of his canoe, and, if I find it, 
be out on the water by the time you get there; if not, 1 will be 
within call of some of you, and give, for a signal, the cry ol a 
raccoon, which I can imitate tolerably, I believe.” 

“ But you don’t propose to go alone ? ” asked several, anx- 
iously. “It might be dangerous business, if you should happcD 
to encounter him with no help within call.” 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


279 


“ Tes, I think I will go alone,” quietly replied the hunter. 

If he can see me before 1 do him, he will do better than I 
think he can. And, if I do get my eye on him first, he will 
stop and yield, or die, a;? sure as my rifie is true to ib< old trust ; 
»br I should feel it my bounden duty to stop him by bullet, if 
.need be, in case he should attempt to flee, as much as I fehould 
to shoot a painter carrying oflT one of my own children.” 

By the approval of the sheriff, and the concuri'cnce of all, 
the hunter’s plan of operations was immediately adopted. And, 
accordingly, the designated numbers were told off' to man the 
river, and at once set in motion to perform the duty; while the 
rest retraced their way to the village, except the hunter, who, 
seeking a shoal place, waded the river, and was soon out of 
sight among the thickets of the opposite bank. 

On the return of the company to the tavern, every boat to 
be found on the river, from that place to the lake, was immedi- 
ately put in requisition, for the service of the night. And by 
early twilight, eight canoes, each containing two or three well- 
armed men, led on by the trapper, in a single canoe, were seen 
emerging from the outlet into the broad lake, and slowly filing 
off' along its western border. Coasting in closely to the shore, 
so as to keep within the shadow of the woods, they pursued 
their noiseless way up the lake, to a point where the low 
marshy land lying between the lower part of the Uinbagog and 
the Magalloway rises into the gradually-swelling ridge, which, 
a mile or two farther on, becomes a rocky, precipitous moun- 
tain, whose beetling cliffs, overhanging the deep, dark waters 
beneath, were crowned with their primeval growth of towering 
pines. Here they paused long enough to station one of their 
canoes, near a small point, commanding a view across the cor- 
responding coves on either side; and then cautiously proceeded 
onwar<l, dropping a canoe, in like manner, every five or six 
hundred yards, till the extremity of the western coast was 
retichcd, the line efficiently manned, and the trapper left to 
cruise alone over the cordon of boats thus stretched along the 


280 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


shore, to carry any needed intelligence, and mahe independent 
observations. It was now dark, and, being a moonless night, 
all within the shade of the mountains, especially, was wrapt 
in almost impenetrable gloom ; so tliat the ear, rather than the 
eye, must now be depended on for whatever discoveries were 
to be made. Nothing as yet, to the disappointment and in- 
creasing anxiety of the company, had been seen or heard of 
the hunter. 

“ lie cannot have been killed, so soon, can he ? ” whispered 
the sheriff, in one. of the last-stationed canoes, as the trapper 
glided alongside, to hold communication witli the officer. 

“ No,” was the low-toned reply ; “ that could not have hap- 
pened, if there were any fear of such a thing, without one or 
more rifle-shots, wliich, in this calm evening, and this favorable 
locality for conveying sounds to a great distance, we must have 
heard, even down to the tavern. No, I will risk him. I think 
he must have got on to the fellow’s trail, and, if near the lake, 
lies in some spot where he can’t move away without danger of 
alarming the game. We have nothing to do but wait {)atiently. 
Phillips knows we are here in waiting, and he will report him- 
self as soon as he can.” 

They did not, however, have to wait long. In a few min- 
utes, a small, shrill, quavering ery, which few could have distin- 
guished from that of a raccoon, rose from a thicket on the 
shore, a short distance below. 

“ Ah ! that is he,” softly cried the trapper ; “ I know the 
thicket he is hailing from. If you will remain just where you 
are, I will scull my canoe down to thesj)ot, take him in with me, 
if he has not found a boat, — or at any rate bring him here to 
make his re[)ort.” 

Like the gliding of a fish, shrinking away from sight, the 
light canoe, under the invisible impulse of the dexterously 
handled oar of the trapper, passed noiselessly away, and dis- 
appeared in the darkness. But, long before the expectant offi- 
cer, who had been vainly listening for some sound, either of the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


28i 


going or the coming of the absent canoe, had thought of its re- 
turn, it was again at his side, with the anticipated addition to 
its occupants. 

“ Here is the man, to speak for himself,” said the trapper, 
putting out a hand to guard off and prevent the canoes from 
grazing. 

“ Well, Mr. Phillips,” said the sheriff, in the same cautious 
under-tone by which all their communications had been gradu- 
ated, “ we are all looking to you, — what is your report ? ” 

“In the first place, that he is here.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ Sixty or seventy rods to the north of us, in a secure retreat 
up among the rocks, about a dozen rods from the shore.” 

“ Are you sure of that ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ IIow did you make the discovery ?” 

“ I will tell you. Wlien I came over, I struck down to the 
lake, nearly abreast the lower end of the ridge, and cautiously 
moved along the shore, upwards, in search of the suspected 
boat ; Avithout discovering it, however, till I came to the rocky 
pass I have alluded to, a short distance above here ; when, 
peering out into the approaching darkness, I caught sight of it 
run under a treetop lying partly in the water. Your boats had 
not got on there ; and thinking, if I took the boat out on to the 
water, as 1 had proposed, he might discover the loss too soon, 
take the alarm, and conclude to escape through the woods 
round the upper lakes, I varied my plan, and stationed myself 
back a few rods, to see if he would not come down to escape by 
his canoe. I had trailed him to the top of this rocky eastern 
slope, before I struck down to the lake, and knew he must be 
somewhere near; so I cocked my rifle, for instant use, and stood 
ready for his approach. And in a short time I caught the 
sound of his movements, sliding cautiously down the rocky 
steeps from the spot above, where I suspected he had housed 
himself. But, before he reached the bottom of the short ravine 


282 


GAUT GURLEY ; OB, 


he must come down, or could be seen where I stood, a dry stick 
unluckily broke under my foot, and the sound, as I perceived at 
once, brought him to a stand; And, though he did not know, 
and don’t know yet, whether the sound was caused by the step 
of man or beast, yet he soon seemed to think it safest to retreat ; 
and my ear could distinctly trace his movements, as he clam- 
bered and pulled himself along back up the ledges to his re- 
treat, I then went down to the shore ; and perceiving, from the 
slight agitation of the water and the faint sound of its gurgling 
under oars, that you had got on to the ground, I stole down the 
shore a piece, and gave the signal, as you heard.” 

“ Are you familiar with the place where you think he lies 
concealed ? ” 

“ Yes, nearly as much so as with my own door-yard.” 

“ What sort of a place is it, and how many ways are there to 
read* it or to escape from it ?” 

“ It is the most curious place in all these parts, and there is 
but one way, I ever could find, to get to it ; and that is, by 
climbing up the ledgy shelf of the face of the hill, through a sort 
of ravine that opens from it down to the lake, where tliere is scarce 
room enougli, on either side, to pass along the shore between 
the perpendicular cliffs and the water. It is an old bear’s den, 
in fact, passing horizontally into the rocks twelve or fifteen feet, 
of varying breadth, and, after you get in, from three to six feet 
in height. I have taken at least a half-dozen fine bears from 
it, in my day, and supposed I was the only one knowing of it; 
but Gaut must have discovered it before this ; for I at once 
found by his trail that he steered directly for the spot, on leav- 
ing ttic Magalloway.” 

“ He did 'i ” interposed the trapper ; “ Ac find it, when he has 
been here in the settlement less than a year, and knows little 
about the woods ; and /, who have been here a dozen years, 
knew nothing about it ? He never found it without Ac//?, and 
that, too, from the same character that let him know we were 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


283 


coming to his’ house, to-day. I tell you, the Old Boy is in 
that man !” 

“ Then we will hang him and the Old Boy with one rope,” 
resumed the hunter, “ for we are now sure of him.” 

“ I hope so,” said the sheriff ; but can he be taken to- 

night?” 

“ Me might, possibly, if we were willing to run risks enough,” 
replied the hunter, doubtfully. “ But I should hardly think it 
advisable to make the attempt. He could not be drawn from 
the cave, if we made the onset ; while, if we entered it, he 
could easily kill several of us before he could be secured.” 

“ What shall be done, then ? ” 

“ I have been studying on that, and the best thing I can 
think of, is, to post men enough to guard him securely through 
the night ; and then have on force enough in the morning to uh- 
burrow him, by some means or other, which we will contrive 
when the time comes.” 

“ But will he not come down, to escape in his boat, to-night?’* 

“ I rather expect not. After hearing the noise I made, and, 
then coupling it with my signal, which he will then be suspicious 
of, as well as of the sounds that most likely have reached or 
will reach his ears from some of our boats ; after all this, he will, 
probably, be afraid of falling into a trap, and would prefer tak- 
ing his chances of escape by daylight. But, if he should come 
down, I wall arrange things so that we will have him, to a dead 
certainty.” 

The suggestions of the hunter were again adopted ; and he 
was again requested to take the lead in putting the proposed 
plan into execution. 

Accordingly, after directing the trapper to concentrate those 
stationed in their canoes above with those in one or two below, 
he entered the boat with the sheriff and his associate ; and, tak- 
ing an oar, slowly rowed along towards the place he had desig- 
nated as the retreat of the desperate outlaw, on whose seizure 
they were so resolutely determined. 


284 


GAUT GURLEY; OB, 


After reaching the spot, and waiting till the expected boat* 
crews arrived, the hunter quietly landed, and stationed two of 
the men in the narrow pass north of the gorge, with orders to 
keep a sharp lookout through the night, hail whoever might 
approach, and shoot him down before suffering him to escape. 
He next led two more up round the nearest approaches of the 
cave, and posted one on each side, a little above it, to prevent 
all possibility of escape over the rocks and ledges in that direc- 
tion ; and then, returning down to the shore, selected the trap- 
per to occupy with him the southern pass to the gorge, thus re- 
serving for himself, and the man on whom he believed he could 
best rely in an emergency, the post where an encounter would 
be most likely to occur. After completing these arrangements, 
and landing a pair of handcuffs from the sheriff’s boat, he 
dismissed the officer to collect all the rest of the company, not 
thus retained, and return to the village for the night, and for a 
fresh rally the next morning. 

It was now ten o’clock at night ; and from that time, for the 
next six hours, the stillness and darkness of death brooded over 
the slumbering waters of the lake. The mute men on guard, 
— to whom the slowly-passing hours seemed doubly long and 
gloomy, from the oppressive sense of the duty of silence, — 
stood immovably at their posts, alternately employing tliem- 
seves in guessing at the hour of the night, and intently listening 
to catch some sound which should indicate the presence of the 
dreaded object of their watch. But, through the whole night, 
no such sound or indication reached their strained senses; and 
most of them, at length, were brought to the belief that either he 
had never been there, or that he had, by some unknown means, 
effected his escape. The hunter, however, never for a moment 
permitted his faith to waver. He not only felt confident that 
Gaut was still in his dark cage in the rocks, but that, the next 
day, safe means would be found to uncage him, and deliver him 
over to hands of justice, to undergo the penalties of Ins crimes. 
And, as soon as the anxiously-awaited daylight began to make 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


285 


its appearance in the east, he began gradually to work his 
noiseless way into the mouth of the gorge, and then up over the 
steeps and ragged ledges, till he had gained a stand undercover 
of a tuft of clinging evergreens, where he could obtain an unob- 
structed view of the mouth of the cavern, some six rods above. 
Here, low crouched behind his bushy screen, with rifle cocked 
and levelled at the entrance, he lay, silently awaiting the ap- 
proach of daylight, expecting that Gaut would then, at least, be 
peering out to ascertain the state of affairs on the shore below. 
And the event soon showed the correctness of his reasoning. 
As the brightening flushes of morning fell on the water, and be- 
gan to throw the reflected light on the face of the mountain, so 
as to bring its darker recesses to view, the hunter’s practised 
ear soon detected a movement within the cave ; and presently 
the head, and then the shoulders, of the wary outlaw rose grad- 
ually in sight against the rocks, immediately over the low 
entrance. 

“Yield yourself a prisoner, or die!” suddenly broke from 
the lips of the concealed hunter. 

Gaut cast a startled g^lance around him, and then instantly 
threw himself to the ground, but barely in time to escape the 
bullet of the exploding rifle below, which struck the rock in the 
exact spot that a half-second before was darkened by the shade 
of his head and shoulders. 

“ Went through the hair on top of his head, I think, but missed 
his skull by something like an inch, probably,” said the hunter, 
quickly gliding down a few feet over the edge of the shelf, 
where he lay so as to put a rock between him and the mouth 
of the cave. “ But, on the whole, I am glad of it ; for I had 
rather see him go by the hand of the hangman than my own.” 

The hunter then quietly reloaded his rifle, and went down 
among his excited companions ; who, the ban of silence being 
now removed by his example, came forward to talk over this 
unexpected and startling incident of the morning, which had 
served the double purpose of demonstrating to the former that 


286 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


Gaut would never surrender himself a prisoner, and to the lat- 
ter, the doubted fact that the object of their search was there, 
as represented to them the evening before. With the whole of 
tliem, indeed, the affair had now assumed a new as])ect. 
Phillips and Codman put their heads together, and began to 
start and discuss various expedients for dislodging the in- 
trenched fugitive; while the others, in their excitement and 
agitation, walked hurriedly about in their confined positions 
speaking or thinking of the desperate and dangerous struggle now 
likely soon to ensue in the attempted caj)ture, and anxiously 
awaiting the arrival of the sheriff and the additional force, which, 
it was understood, he would rally and bring on with him. 

“ They are coming ! ” at lengjJi cried one of the men from the 
cliff above; “ they are coming iei troops, and in all directions.” 

The men on shore now eagerly ran down to the farthest pro- 
jecting rocks, or on hillen trees extending into the water, to 
obtain unobstructed views of the company thus announced to 
be approaching in the distance; when, instead of the few tiiey 
had expected, they beheld a whole fleet of canoes emerging 
from the distant outlet below, and rowing with all speed to- 
wards them ; while, at the same time, another comj)any of 
boats was seen approaching from the settlement around the 
upper end of the lake. 

It appeared that, when the sheriff with his attendants reached 
the village the evening before, and announced the exciting 
tidings that the desperate man, whom all were so intent on 
hunting down, had been driven to a stronghold among the rocks 
of the mountain up the lake, where it might require a large 
foj ce to take him, men started off in all directions, and rode all 
night with the news; which, flying like wind over this and the ad- 
joining settlements, threw the whole country, for thirty or forty 
miles around, into commotion; and put scores of bold men im- 
mediately on the march for the scene of action. Anu the up- 
shot was that, by sunrise the next morning, more than fifty 
men, hurrying in from all quarters, had assembled at the vil- 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


287 


lage, and having appropriated all the boats on the livers, for 
many miles above and below, had joined the company of the 
sheriff, and under his lead were now on their way to the great 
point of attraction; together with many others entering the lake 
from other quarters. 

In a short time the long retinue of canoes came clustering to 
the shore ; when the motley company, preceded by the sheriff 
and his immediate attendants, all landed, and, crowding around 
the hunter and his associates, listened, with many a half-sup- 
pressed exclamation, indicative of the deep excitement that 
agitated the mass, to the recital of the discoveries and incidents 
of the morning. 

“ I cannot believe,” said the sheriff, who had been listening 
with keen interest to the hunter’s account of his bold but fruit- 
less attempt to compel the submission of the desperado, “ I can- 
not believe, after all, that the fellow will be so foolhardy as to 
persist in his refusal to surrender, when he knows there is now 
no longer any chance for him to escape. I will try him faith- 
fully before resorting to extreme measures.” 

“ That may be well enough, perhaps,” remarked the hunter, 
demurely, feeling a little rebuked for his own hastiness in firing 
on the man, by some of the expressions of the officer ; “ yes, 
that will be well enough. But, if you succeed in drawing 
him out to be taken by means of words alone, I will try the 
experiment on the very next wolf or painter I drive into his 
den.” 

“ Nevertheless, it shall be tried,” returned the officer. 

And accordingly, having called to his side a small band of 
well-armed assistants, he proceeded with them up the gorge, till 
he had gained the shelf which afforded the hunter a covert in 
the previous assault ; when he stx>pped fearlessly out in full view 
of the mouth of the cavern, and, with a loud voice, calling the 
name of Gaut' Gurley, “ commanded him, in the name and by 
the authority of the State of New Hampshire, to come out and 


288 


OAUT GURLEY; OR, 


surrender himself a prisoner, to answer, in court, to the charts 
set fortli in a warrant then ready to be produced.” 

The officer now paused ; and all listened ; but no sound came 
from the cave. The summons was then repeated, in a still 
louder and more determined tone of voice. And this time a 
sound, resembling the growl of a chafed tiger, was heard with- 
in, belching out a volley of muttered curses, and ending with 
the distinguishable w^ords of defiance : 

“ If you want me, come and take me ; and we will see who 
dies first.” 

“ Your blood be on your own head, then, obstinate wretch ! ” 
exclaimed the excited officer. “ Men, prepare to throw a volley 
of bullets into that cavern. Ready — aim — fire ! ” 

The single report ot* a half-dozen exploding muskets instantly 
followed the word, ringing out and reverberating along the 
mountain like the shock of a field-piece ; wdiile, -with the dying 
sound, a hoarse shout of derisive laughter from the cave greeted 
the ears of the awe-struck and shuddering company around. 

“ There is no use in that,” said the hunter, who had followed 
and posted himself a little in the rear of the besieging party, 
under the apprehension that the besieged might make a rush 
out of his retreat, in the smoke and confusion consequent on 
the firing, — “ there is no use in any thing of that kind. The 
entrance, after the first four or five feet, suddenly expands into 
quite a large space, into one of the corners of which he could 
easily step, as he doubtless did just now, and be safe against a 
regiment of rifles from without.” 

“ Then we will smoke him out ! ” fiercely exclaimed the 
sheriff, recovering from his astonishment at finding the culprit 
had not been annihilated, and beginning to be enraged at seeing 
himself and his authority thus alike despised; “ w^e wall smoke 
him out, like a burrowed wild beast, and soon convince the 
scoffing villain that we are not to be foiled in this manner. 
Ilillo, there, below I gather and bring up here at least a cart- 
load of dry and green boughs.” 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


289 


With eager alacrity the throng below sprang to do the bid- 
ding of the officer ; and, in a short time, they came clambering 
up the steeps, with their shouldered loads of mingled material, 
to the post occupied by the advanced party ; who took, and, 
keeping as much as possible out of the range of the entrance, 
carried them up, and threw them over the next shelf on to the 
little level space lying around the mouth of the cavern. This 
process was briskly continued, till a pile as large as a haycock 
was raised against the upright ledge through which the cave 
opened by a low narrow mouth at the bottom. A fire was then 
struck, a pine knot kindled, and held ready for the intended 
application ; when the sheriff, proclaiming to the desperate ob- 
ject of these fearful preparations what was in store for him, 
commanded him once more, and for the last time, to surrender. 
But, receiving no reply, he then, ordering the men to stand 
ready with poles to scatter the material the moment the victim 
should cry for mercy, seized the fiaming brand and hurled it 
into the most combustible part of the pile before him. 

Within the space of a minute the appearance of the quickly- 
catching blaze, now seen leaping in a thousand dimly-sparkling 
toDujues of fiame, from layer to layer and from side to side, 
through the crevices of the loosely-packed mass, gave proof 
thaX the whole pile was becoming thoroughly ignited. And 
the next moment the cave, and the whole visible range of rocks 
above, were lost to sight in the dense cloud of smoke that deeply 
wrapt and rolled over them. Expecting every instant to hear 
the agonized cries of the victim, now seemingly enfolded in the 
very embrace of the terrible element, calling aloud for mercy 
ana offering submission, the whole company, crowding the 
gorge below, or peering over from the surrounding cliffs, 
climbed for the purpose, stood for some time mute and appalled 
at the spectacle, and the thought of the fearful issue it involved. 
No sound or sight, however, except the crackling of the con- 
suming fagots and the flaring sheet of the ascending fiameS| 
greeted their expectant senses. 

19 


290 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


** Pretty much as I have long thought it would turn out, in 
the end,” said the trapper, the first to break the silence as tlie 
fire was seen to be slacking away, without any thing yet being 
heard from the dreaded inmate of the cave. “ His master is 
taking him off in a winding-sheet of smoke and flame. I 
shouldn’t be surprised at a clap of thunder or an earthquake to 
wind up with.” 

“ At any rate,” observed another of the crowd, “ he must be 
suffocated by this time.” 

“ Yes,” responded a third, “dead, dead as a door-nail; so, 
there is an end of the incarnate Beelzebub that we have known 
by the name of Gaut Gurley.” 

“ I am not so clear about that,” now interposed the hunter, 
who had stood intently watching the varying aspects of the 
fire and smoke about the cave. “ I thought, myself, that this 
operation must put him on begging terms, if any thing would ; 
and the question is, whether it wouldn’t now, before he found 
himself in any danger of smothering. I don’t understand it ; but 
stay, — what is that rising from the top of the rocks, some dis- 
tance back from the front of the den? Mr. Sheriff, do you 
see it?” 

“ Sec what, sir ? ” 

“ Why, that slender column of smoke rising gently out of the 
top of the rocks, directly over the cave, and growing more 
visible every moment, as the smoke from the fire down here in 
front becomes light and thin in the clear blaze.” 

“I do see what appears, here, to be something of the kind 
not proceeding directly from the fire, — yes, plainly, now. 
What does it mean, Mr. Phillips ? ” 

“ It means that the rascal has a chimney to his house, or 
what, for his safety, is the same. The rocks forming the top 
of the cavern are piled up so loosely that the smoke rises 
through them almost as easy and natural as from a chimney. 
He had nothing to do but to throw himself on the bottom, to be 
out of its way, and breathe as good air as the best of us.” 


fHE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 29 1 

“ By TTeavens, Phillips, T beliove you are right ! And that is 
not all there is to it, either: if our smoking-out experiment 
has failed, it has shown a better one. The same looseness of 
the roeks that permitted the escape of (he smoke so freely, will 
permit, also, their being removed dr torn away. We wilt now 
uncage him by digging down into his den. IIo there ! my 
merry men below, go to cutting heavy pry-poles, and look up 
your ci-ow-bars, picks, sledge-hammers, and shovels. There is 
work for you all.” 

As soon as the unexpected discoveries ^Vhich had led to 
these new orders, and consequent change of the whole plan of 
attack, were understood and fully comprehended by all, the 
solemn and revolting character of the scene was instantly con- 
verted into one of bustle and animation. As the plan thus in- 
dicated by the sheriff recpiired the scene of operations to be 
transferred to the top of the rocks above the cave, to which 
there was no means of access from the gorge in front, he, 
leaving a strong guard in the pass now occupied, took the 
hunter and came down to the shore ; when the latter, followed 
by the officer and a score of resolute, strong-armed men with 
their various implements, led the devious way back through the 
woods, and up round the ledgy and preci|)itous face of the 
mountain, till they reached a point a little above the level of 
the cave. Here they paused, and sent the hunter out along a 
lateral shelf of the declivity, to search for the most accessible 
path to their destination. While the company were pausing 
here fjr this purpose, their attention was suddenly arrested by 
the heralding shouts of another company of men, evidently 
approaching from the other side of the mountain. And, soon 
after, a band of a dozen well-armed, hardy-looking fellows, 
headed by a tall, powerfully-framed man, made their appear- 
ance, pushing their way down the brush-tangled steeps from 
above, 

“ Turner ! ” exclaimed the sheriff, addressing the leader of 
the approaching band, who was at once recognized to be an 


292 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


ex-sherifF of the county, and one of the most daring and suc- 
cessful felon-hunters ever known in northern New-IIampshire ; 
“ General Turner, of all men you are the one I should have 
most wished to see, just at this time. We have a tough case 
on hand ; but how did you get here ? ” 

The only way left for us. When we reached the tavern 
down here on the river, not a boat was to be had ; and so we 
steered up the Magalloway, and came over by land, as you see. 
I had heard of this desperate character, and your dealings with 
him, before the present outrage, and have now come to help 
you put him through. Now tell us the state of the siege, — some 
idea of which we got from a man we met, a mile back on our 
way.” 

The sheriff then related all that had transpired, and named 
the new plan of operations, of which they were then proceed- 
ing to test the feasibility. 

“We will have him ! ” said Turner, with a determined look. 
“ If we can’t tear away the rocks with bars and sledges, we will 
send off for a barrel of gunpowder to blow them open ; and if 
that fails, I will go into the cave, myself, and if I don’t snake 
him out before I’ve done with him, he must be a harder cus- 
tomer than it has ever yet been my lot to encounter.” 

By this time the hunter had returned, and now pointed out 
the best way to the place of which they were in quest ; when 
the sheriff, ex-sheriff, and their respective followers, preceded 
by their guide, commenced forcing their passage along the 
craggy cliffs ; and, within ten minutes, they found themselves 
standing on the off-set forming the rocky roofing of the cavern. 
The appearance of the place was much more favorable for the 
proposed attempt at excavation than any of them had antici- 
pated. From the front face of the rock, which was pierced by 
the mouth of the cave at the bottom, and which presented a 
perpendicular of about fifteen feet, the topmost stones rapidly 
fell off to a depression over the centre of the cave, which, it 
was at once seen, must greatly reduce ths depth of rock to be 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


293 


removed or broken up, before reaching the interior. And, in 
addition to this encouraging discovery, the rocks in and aiound 
this depression, through which the smoke was yet visibly oozing, 
appeared to be detached from the main ledge, and, though 
heavy, such as might be removed by appliances at command. 
Still, there was a formidable mass to be disrupted and removed 
before an entrance could be effected in that direction. But the 
men, impatient of inaction, and eager to be doing something to 
forward the common object, — like all bodies of excited people 
anxious to cooperate, but unable to decide on a course of action, 
— scarcely waited to be told what was wanted, before they all 
sprang to the work with that resistless union of faith and ex- 
ertions which requires no intervention of miracles to remove 
mountains. The moss, earth, decayed wood, and all else of 
the loose covering of rocks, quickly disappeared under their 
busy hands or rapidly-plied implements. The smaller stones 
and broken fragments, as soon as loosened or beat off by the 
bars and sledges, were seized and hurled in showers over the 
surrounding ledges ; the larger ones, when started from their 
beds by the long heavy prys, were grappled with the united 
strength of all that could get to them, rolled up, pitched over 
the precipice in front, and sent bounding and crashing down the 
gorge below. And the whole forest resounded with the din of 
their heavy blows and the mingling sounds of their varied 
labors. 

While all who could find room to work on the excavation 
were thus briskly pushing forward their ope*’ations, a smaller 
party were engaged in beating down the ro«ky battlement in 
front ; and so vigorously and successfully w^re the efforts of 
these also directed, that, in a short time, the top was so lowered, 
and the seamy rocks so split down, that, with the mass of 
stones thrown over, a path of easy descent was formed from 
the top, down to the shelf below, on one side of the mouth of 
(he cave ; which was now securely blocked up, and closely in* 


> 

294 GAUT GURLEY; Oil, 

vested by the party previously stationed in near vicinity tO 
guard it. 

Thus bravely, and with no token of faltering at the obstacles 
which they frequently encountered, and wliicli sometimes 
required their greatest exertions to overcome, did these sii'ong- 
armed and determined men push on their lierculean lal)()rs, for 
the space of nearly tw'o hours ; when suddenly a shout of exult- 
ation rose from those tit work lowest down in the excjivation, 
and the next moment the voice of the ex-sheriff was heard 
exclaiming to those around him : 

“ Courage, men ! the game is nearly unkenneled. I have 
driven my bar through, and the hole is so large that the bar 
has slipped from my hands and gone to the bottom ! ” 

The excitement now became intense ; and all crowded round 
the rim of the excavation, and, with uneasy looks and hushed 
voices, eagerly peered down into the dimly-visible perforation 
at the bottom while those already wiihin the excavated basin 
began, wdth beating hearts, carefully loosening and pulling out 
the shivered and detached stones, lying around the small aper- 
ture just effected, and continued the process until all the outer 
edges of the broad, thin rock, wdiich the crow-bar had perfo- 
rated, and wdiich appeared to form the lower or interior layer 
of the roofing of the cavern, were fully laid bare, and bi-ouglit 
w^ithin the reach of the outstretched arms of those bending 
down to grasp them. A dozen brawny hands w^ere then seen 
securing their gripe on one side of the rock ; wdien, at the word 
of the sheriff’, a sudden pull was made with a force that raised 
the wdiole mass nearly a foot from its bed. 

“ It comes bravely ! ” said the sheriff. “ Now^ fix yourselves 
for another pull ; wdiile tw'o or three of you above there come 
forward with your rifles, and stand wdth them levelled at the 
hole, as w^e open it, lest the desperate dog make a rush before 
we are prepared. Now altogether, — there, now ! ” 

The eff’ort was made, and the sheeted rock w’as brought to a 
perpendicular ; when it was grappled by the men with might 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


295 


and mam, lifted clear from its bed, and thrust aside, letting the 
sunlight do\vn upon the bottom of the cave through a chasm 
nearly large enough to permit two men to jump in abreast. 
'I’here w’as now a dead pause ; and all eyes were turned on the 
chasm in silent and trembling expectation. But nothing ap- 
pearing, the hunter and ex-sheriff crept down prostrate to the 
brink of the chasm, and worked their heads cautiously below, to 
get a fuller view of the interior. After looking, with slightly 
varied positions, about a minute, they both rose and came up on 
the bank ; when the ex-sheriff, turning to the hunter, softly said : 

*' He is there. I caught sight of his legs standing in a corner 
ne?** the mouth of the cave. Did you get a view?” 

Yes, a better one than that ; I saw his legs, and as much of 
his body as I could without bringing my own head within the 
line of his eyes. He stands there on the watch, with cocked 
rifle pointing to this opening, while he has a dirk within his 
left hand grasping the rifle, and I think a pistol within his 
o^her hand, held in a similar manner. I can read his plan.” 

“ What is it, as you read it ? ” 

“ To take the first that enters with his rifle, pistol the second, 
make a rush through the rest, and stab as he goes.” 

“ About the truth, probably. But what is to be done ? Shall 
you and I leap down, make a spring upon him, and stand our 
chance ? ” 

“Why, — yes,” replied the hunter, with a little hesitation ; 
yes, if we can’t do better than throw away one good life, at 
least, for a bad one. But if we could contrive to divert his 
attention suddenly to the mouth of the cave ” 

“ You are right ! Stay here a moment, and I will put mat- 
ters in train to carry out your suggestion,” eagerly interrupted 
Tu rner, taking the sheriff confidentially aside. 

In a few minutes the determined ex-sheriff, follow^ed by four 
or five stout, resolute men, whose special assistance he had 
bespoken for the occasion, returned to the side of the huntery 
and said : 


296 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


Get down there in your old position, where you can watch 
his movements. They have gone down to unblock the mouth 
of the cave outside, and make a feint of entering. If they 
succeed in drawing his fire, I will take that as a signal, — if 
not, then you give me the word, at the right moment, when his 
head, and with it naturally his I’ifle, is turned to the supposed 
new point of attack, and I will leap down and make a spring 
to get within the line of the muzzle before he can fire ; and, 
the instant I disappear, you and these men follow, and be close 
on my heels for the grapple.” 

Tlie hunter then edged down to his former place of observa- 
tion, where he lay, while Turner sat crouching on the brink 
ready for the leap, narrowly watching the movements of the 
dreaded foe within, who was seen to be still standing motionless 
in the same position as before. Presently the movements of 
those outside the old entrance of the cavern, as they began 
cautiously to remove the blockading stones, became clearly 
audible, and soon a few straggling rays of light began to gleam 
into the interior from that direction. On perceiving these in- 
dications, the wary desperado began, for the first time, to 
exhibit signs of uneasiness. Slightly changing his position, 
he glanced rapidly from the already half-cleared entrance in 
front to the chasm just opened through the top in the rear. 
But neither seeing or hearing any thing that led him to expect 
any assault, except from the front, and evidently supposing it 
was now the intention of his assailants to drive him up through 
the top opening, to be seized as he came out, he drew back a 
step, and, turning the muzzle of his rifle towards the mouth of 
the cave, stood ready to fire upon the first who should make 
his appearance. This movement was not lost on the keenly- 
watching hunter, who saw that it afforded a fair chance for a 
successful surprise ; and he once parted his lips to give the 
signal for the onset. But, perceiving from the incoming light 
that the mouth of the cave was cleared from its obstructions, 
he ventured to await the effect of the feint now momentarily 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


297 


expected from that quarter. He had judged wisely. The 
delay was not In vain. A rustling sound, seeming to come 
from some one squeezing through the entrance, was now heard; 
and soon a dark object, resembling the head and shoulders of 
a man, making slow and cautious advances, was fully pro- 
truded into the cavern ; when, suddenly, the whole ledge shook 
with the stunning report of a rifle, and the next moment. 
Turner, Phillips, and their chosen backers, had all disappeared 
in the cloud of smoke that came pouring up through the chasm. 
Quick, heavy, muffled sounds, as of fiercely-grappling tigers, 
instantly came from within. And within another minute, the 
stentorian voice of the daring leader of the onset was heard, 
shouting for the hand-cuffs and fetters. 

The fierce siege was over. The desperate intentions and 
giant strength of the besieged, after a brief but terrible strug- 
gle, had been thwarted and overcome by the intrepidity and 
equal strength of the ex-slteriff ; and he, now firmly clenched 
round the body, and held down, with every limb in the vise- 
like grasp of his iron-fisted captors, lay disarmed, helpless, and 
panting on the ground. 

“ There ! ” sternly cried the victorious leader of the hazard- 
ous assault, as he rose to his feet, after he had seen the heavy 
irons securely locked on the wrists and ankles of the silent and 
sullen prisoner, — “ there ! drag him out, feet foremost, into the 
open light of day, where he and his dark deeds have all i'.ow 
got to come, to meet the vengeance of an outraged commu- 
nity ! ” 

It was done, and with no gentle hand ; when a long, wild 
shout of exultation fiercely broke from the closely-encir'fling 
throng, thrilling the trembling forest around with the din, and 
rolling away to the farthest shores of the lake, to proclaim 
that the first murderer of the settlement — the black-hearted 
Gaut Gurley — was now a prisoner, and in the uncompromis- 
ing hands of public justice. 

The animated spectacle which now ensued, of trundling. 


298 


GAUT GURLEY. 


pushing, and tumbling the chafed and growling prisoner dowii 
to the shore, amid the unrestrained demonstrations of the ex- 
ulting multitude ; the noisy and bustling embarkation on the 
lake ; the ostentatious display of mimic banners, formed by rais- 
ing on tall poles, handkerchiefs, hats, coats, and whatever would 
make a show in the distance, as the long line of canoes, with 
the closely guarded prisoner in the centre, filed off in gorgeous 
array, through the glitter of the sun-lit lake, on their way to 
the great outlet ; the pause and concentration there ; the 
rapid descent down the river to the village, where a board of 
magistrates were waiting to sit on the case of the expected 
prisoner; and, finally, the loudly heralding Jcuk-kuk-ke-o-hos of 
the overflowing trapper, to announce, over a two-mile reach of 
the stream, the triumphant approach, — this animated and here 
extraordinary spectacle, we must leave to th*^ delineation of the 
reader’s imagination. Our attention is more strongly demanded 
in a different direction, to bring up other irnpormnt incidents of 
our story, before proceeding any farther with the actors who 
have figured in this part of the narrative, or taking note of the 
examination to which they were now hurrying the pci^oxier. 


CHAPTER XX. 


By thine infinite of woe, 

All we know not, all we kno\^; 

If there be what dieih not, 

Thine, affection, is its lot.^* 

T^eep in the wilderness of woods and waters encircling the 
mouth of a small inlet, at the extreme northwestern end of the 
picturesque Maguntic, there lay encamped, at the point of a 
low headland, on one of the first nights of May, the three trap- 
pers, whose expedition had been the subject of so many gloomy 
speculations, and whose unexpectedly prolonged absence had 
caused, as we have seen, so much anxiety in the settlement to 
which they belonged. They had extended their outward jour- 
ney more than double the distance contemplated by the Elwoods, 
at least when they left home ; the mover of the expedition, Gaut 
Gurley, having proposed to make the shores of the Maguntic, 
and its feeding streams only, the range of their operations. 
But when they arrived there, as they did, on the ice, which was 
still firm and solid on the lakes, Gaut pretended to believe that 
the rich beaver-haunts, to which he had promised to lead them, 
could not be identified, niuch less reached, until the ice had broken 
up in the streams and lake. He, therefore, now proposed that 
they should first proceed over to the chief inlet of the Oquossak, 
stay one night in the camp, which was left in the great snow- 
storm of the fall before, dig out the steel-traps buried there, 
and, the next day, slide over the boats, also left there, on the 
glare ice, — as all agreed could easily be done on some light and 
simple contrivance, — and land them on the west shore of the 
Maguntic, where they could be concealed, and found ready foi 

(299i 


300 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

use when the lake opened. He would then, he said, lead them 
to a place among the head-water streams of the Magalloway, 
only a day’s journey distant, where he once “trapped' it” him- 
self, and where, as the rivers there broke up early, he could 
promise them immediate success. 

All this had been done ; and the party, having spent nearly 
three weeks among the lakelets and interweaving streams going 
to make up the sources of the Magalloway and Connecticut 
rivers, with occasional recourse to the nearest habitations on the 
upper Magalloway, for provisions, but -with very indifferent 
success in taking furs, had now, on the urging of young Elwoodj 
returned to the Maguntic, — which, after a hard day’s journey, 
they had reached, at the point where we have introduced them, 
about sunset the day but one preceding, thrown up a temporary 
shanty, and encamped for the night. On rising the next morn- 
ing, Gaut had proposed that Claud remain at camp that day, 
to build a better shanty, and hunt in the near vicinity ; while 
he and Mark Elwood should explore the stream, to a pond 
some miles above, where his previously discovered beaver- 
haunts, he said, were mostly to be found, and where, the snow 
and ice having wholly disappeared, they could now operate to 
good advantage. With this arrangement, however, the young 
man, whose secret suspicions had been aroused by one or two 
previous attempts made by Gaut to separate him from his 
father, plausibly refused to comply ; and the consequence was, 
that they had all made the proposed explorations together, re- 
turned to camp without discovering any indications of the prom- 
ised beaver, and laid down for the night, with the understand- 
ing, reluctantly agreed to by the moody and morose Gaut, that 
they should proceed down the lake to their boats the next morn- 
ing, and embark for an immediate return to their homes, where 
the Elwoods felt conscious they must, by this time, be anxiously 
expected. 

Such were the circumstances under which we have brought 
this singularly-assorted party of trappers to the notice of the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOQ, 


801 


reader, as they lay sleeping in their bough-constructed tents, — 
Gaut and Mark Elwood under one cov’^er, and Claud under 
another, which he had fixed up for himself on the opposite 
side of their fire, — on the ominous night which was destined 
to prelude the most tragic and melancholy scene of our vari- 
ously eventful story. 

It was the hour of nature’s deepest repose, and the bright 
midnight moon, stealing through the gently-swaying boughs 
of the dark pines that rose heavenward, like pinnacles, along 
the silent shores around, was throwing her broken beams fit- 
fully down upon the faces of the unconscious sleepers, faintly 
revealing the impress which the thoughts and purposes of the 
last waking hours had left on the countenance of each. And 
these impresses were as variant as the characters of those on 
wliose features they rested: that lingering on the sternly-com- 
pressed lips and dark, beetling brows of Gaut Gurley, ever sinis- 
ter, was doubly so now ; that on the face of Mai'k Elwood, whose 
vacillations of thought and feeling, through life, had exempted 
his features from any stamp betokening fixed peculiarity of char- 
acter, was one of fatuous security ; and that resting on the 
intellectual and guileless face of Claud Elwood was one of 
simple care and inquietude. 

But what is that light, shadowy form, hovering near the 
sylvan couch of Claud, like some unsubstantial being of the 
air; now advancing, now shrinking away, and now again fiftuing 
forward to the head of the youthful sleeper, and there pausing 
and preventing the light from longer revealing his features ? 
Yes, what is it? would ask a doubting spectator of this singu- 
lar night-scene. A passing cloud come over the moon ? No, 
there is none in the heavens. But why the useless speculation? 
for it is gone now, leaving the sleeper’s face again visible, and 
wearing a more unquiet and disturbed air than before. His 
features twitch nervously, and expressions of terror and sur- 
prise flit over them. He dreams, and his dream is a troubled 
one Let the novelist’s license be invoked to interpret it 


302 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


He was alone with his father on a boundless plain, when 
suddenly a dark, whirlwind tempest-cloud fell upon the earth 
around them, and soon separated him from the object of his 
care. As he was anxiously pressing on through the thickly- 
enveloping vapors, in the direction in which the latter had dis- 
appeai-ed, he was suddenly confronted by a monstrous, black, 
and fearful living apparition, who stood before him in all the 
horrid para[)hernalia ascribed to the prince of darkness, appa- 
rently i-eady to crush him to the earth, when a bright angel 
form swiftly interposed. Starting back, with the rapidly-chas- 
ing sensations of terror and surprise, he looked again, and the 
fiend stood stript of his infernal guise, and suddenly transformed 
into the person of Gaut Gurley, who, with a howl of dismay, 
quickly turned and fled in confusion. The amazed dreamer 
then rurncd to his deliverer, who had been transformed into the 
beauteous Fluella, whose image, he was conscious, was no 
longer a stranger among the lurking inmates of his heart. A 
sweet, benignant smile was breaking over her lovely features; 
and, under the sudden impulse of the grateful surj)rise, he 
eagerly stretched out his arms towards her, and, in the effort, 
awoke. 

“ Where, where is she? ” he exclaimed, springing to his feet, 
and glaring wildly around him. “Why!” he continued, after 
a |)ause, in which he appeared to be rallying his bewildered 
senses, — “why! what is this? a dream, nothing but a di-earn ? 
It must be so. But what a strange one ! and what could have 
caused it? Was there not some one standing over me, just 
now, darkening my face like a shadow ? I feel a dim con- 
sciousness of something like it. But that, probably, was part 
of the same dream. Yes, yes, all a mere dream ; all noth- 
ing ; so, begone with you, miserable phantoms ! I will not 
suffer ” 

But, as if not satisfied with his own reasoning, he stopped short, 
and, for many minutes, stood motionless, with his head dr )pped 
in deep thought ; when, arousing himself, he returned to his 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


303 


rude resting-place, and laid down again, but only to toss and 
turn, in the restless excitement which he obviously found him- 
self unable to allay. After a while spent in this tantalizing 
unrest, he rose and slowly made his way down to the edge of 
the lake, a few rods distant, where, scooping up water with his 
hands, he first drank eagerly, then bathed his fevered brow, 
and then, rising, he stood some time silent on the shore, — 
now pensively gazing out on the darkly-bright expanse of the 
moon-lit lake ; and now listening to the mysterious voices of 
night in the wilderness, which, in low, soft, whispering undula- 
tions of sound, came, at varied intervals, gently murmuring 
along the wooded shores, to die away into silence in the remote 
recesses of the forest. These phenomena of the wilds he had 
once or twice before noted, and tried to account for, without, 
however, attaching much consequence to them. But now they 
became invested with a strange significance, and seemed to 
him, in his present excited and apprehensive state of mind, por- 
tentous of impending evil. While his thoughts were taking 
this channel, the possibility of what might be done in his ab- 
sence suddenly appeared to occur to him ; and he hastened 
back to camp, where he slightly replenished the fire, and, taking 
a recumbent position, with his loaded rifle within reach, kept 
awake, and on the watch, till morning. 

After daylight Claud arose, as if nothing unusual had oc- 
curred to disturb him, bustled about, built a good fire, and be-* 
gan to prepare a morning meal from the fine string of trout he 
had taken during yesterday’s excursion. The noise of these 
preparations soon awoke the two sleepers; who, complimenting 
him on his early rising, also arose, and soon joined him in par- 
taking the repast, which, by this time, he had in readiness. 

As soon as they had finished their meal, which was enliv- 
ened by no other than an occasional brief, commonplace 
remark, the thoughts of each of thenr. being evidently en- 
grossed by his own peculiar schemes and anxieties, the trapjjers, 
by common consent, set about thdir preparations to depart ; 


304 


(3AUT GURLEY; OR, 


and, having completed them, leisurely took their way down 
the western shore of the lake towards the spot at wliicli they 
had hauled up and concealed their canoe, and which, if they 
followed the deep indentures of the shore in this part of the 
lake, must be four or five miles distant. 

For the first mile or two of their progress nothing noticea- 
ble to an indifferent observer occurred to vary the monotony of 
their walk, as they tramped steadily and silently forward, in 
the usual, and, indeed, almost the only practicable mode of trav- 
elling in the forest, appropriately denominated Indian file. But 
young Elwood, whose feelings had been deeply stirred by the 
fancies of the night, which, to say the least, had the effect to 
make him more keenly apprehensive and vigilant, had noted 
several little circumstances, that, to him, wore a questionable 
appearance. Gaut, who at first led the way, soon manceii- 
vred to get Mark Elwood, the next in the order of their 
march, in front ; and then urged him forward at a much faster 
pace than before, at the same time often castii^g furtive glances 
behind him, as if to see whether Claud, who seemed in- 
clined to walk more slowly than the rest, would not fall be- 
hind, and soon be out of sight. And, when the latter quick- 
ened his pace, he showed signs of vexation, which had not 
passed unnoticed. . All this Claud had noted, together with the 
singular expression which Gaut’s countenance assumed, and 
which filled him with an undefinable dread, and a lively suspicion 
that the man was on the eve of attempting tlie execution of 
foul purposes. Consequently he resolved to follow up closely, 
having no fears for himself, and believing his presence would 
prevent any attempt that might be meditated against his father. 
This precaution, for some time, the young man was careful to 
observe ; but, as he was passing over a small brook that 
cr;.ssed his path, his eye caught the appearance of a slight trail, 
a few rods up the stream, and curiosity prompted him to turn 
aside to examine it. When he reached the place, he soon de- 
tected indications which convinced liim that some person had 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


'305 


recently been there ; and, forgetful of his resolution, in the in- 
terest the circumstance excited, he commenced a closer inspec* 
tion, which resulted in discovering a fresh imprint, in the soft 
mud on one side of the brook, of a small moccasined foot. This 
curious and unexpected discovery, uncertain as were its in- 
dications of any identity of the person, or even of the age or 
sex of the person, by whom that delicate footprint was made, 
at once diverted his attention from the particular care by which 
it had been engrossed, and started that other of the two trains 
of thought, which, for the last month, but especially since his 
singular awakening the past night, had constituted the chief bur- 
den of his mind, — his increasing apprehensions for his father’s 
safety, and his lurking but irrepressible regard for the chief’s 
beautiful daughter, whose image, since his dream, had haunted 
him with a pertinacity for which a resort to reason alone would 
fail to account. 

** If music be the food of love,” 

dreams, we apprehend, whatever the immortal bard might 
have thought of the matter, have often proved the more excit- 
ing stimulus of the tender passion ; many of whose happiest 
consummations might be traced back to an origin in some peo- 
pled scene of a dreaming fancy, whose peculiar effect on the 
sympathies has frequently been felt by the sternest and most 
sceptical, though never very clearly explained in any of our 
written systems of the philosophy of the soul and its affec- 
tions. 

In the pleasing indulgence of the feelings and fancies which 
had been thus freshly kindled, Claud stood, for some minutes, 
quite unconscious of the lapse of time, though it had been long 
enough to place his companions far out of sight and hearing. 
From this reverie he was suddenly aroused by the sharj) report 
of a rifle, bursting on his ear from tlie woods, about a quarter 
of a mile off, in the direction just taken by his companions. 
Starting at the sound, which sent a boding chill through his 
20 


306 


GAITT GURLEY; OR, 


heart, and bitterly taxing himself for his inadvertent loitering, 
he sprang back to the trail he had left, and made his way along 
over it towards the place indicated by the firing, with all the 
speed which excited nerves and agonizing anxiety could bring 
to his aid. But, before reaching the spot at which he was 
aiming, and just as he was beginning to slacken his pace, to look 
around for it, Gaut Gurley burst through the bushes, a few rods 
ahead, and, running towards him with all the manifestations of 
a man in hasty retreat before a pursuing foe, eagerly ex- 
claimed : 

“ Run, Claud ! run for your life ! We tiave just been beset 
by hostile Indians, who fired on us, and, I fear, have killed your 
father. I have misled them a little ; but they will soon be on 
our trail. Run ! run ! ” he added, seizing the other by the arm 
to start him into instant flight. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the astonished young man, hanging 
back, and by degrees recovering from the surprise with which 
he was at first overwhelmed by the strange and startling an- 
nouncement. “ What ! hostile Indians ? — hostile to whom, 
to my father, or to me, that I should run from them ? Gaut 
Gurley, what, O what does this mean ? ” . 

‘‘ Why, it means,” said the other, keeping up all the motions 
and flourishes naturally used by one urging another to flee, — 
“ it means, as I say, our lives are in danger. Let us escape 
while we can. Come, come, there’s not a moment to lose ! ” 

“ I will know” said Claud, with a quick, searching glance 
at the face of the other, — “ yes, I will know for myself what 
has happened,” he sternly added, suddenly breaking from the 
gi’asp on his arm, and bounding forward to execute his pur- 
pose with a quickness and rapidity that made pursuit useless. 

“ Hold ! ” cried Gaut, in an increasingly fierce and angry 
tone, “ hold, instantly, — on your life, hold ! I warn you, sir, to 
Btop, instantly to stop !” 

But, heeding neither the entreaties nor the threats which, 
his ear told him, were strangely mingled in the tones of the 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


307 


w^ords thus thundered after him, Claud, in his agony of appre- 
hension, eagerly rushed on tow^ards the forbidden scene, which 
could not now be thirty rods distant, and had proceeded, per- 
haps, forty yards ; when, just as he was straightening up, after 
stooping to pass under an obstructing limb of a tree, extending 
across his path, he became conscious of the sound of the sudden 
hitting of the limb, and partly so of the concussion of a shot, still 
farther in his rear. But he neither heard nor knew more ; 
and, the next moment, lay stretched senseless on the ground. 

When he awoke to consciousness, after, he knew not what 
lapse of time, he found himself in a different place ; lying, as 
he felt conscious, badly wounded, on a soft, elastic bed of 
boughs, within a dense thicket of low evergreens, through 
which his opening eye caught the gleams of widely-surround- 
ing waters. A ministering angel, in the shape of the peerless 
daughter of the wilds, who had lately so much occupied his 
thoughts, was wistfully bending over him, with a countenance 
in which commiseration and woe had found an impersonation 
which no artist’s pencil could have equalled. 

“Fluella!” he feebly murmured, — “how came you here, 
Fluella?” 

She saw that the effort to speak caused him a pang, and, 
without replying to the question, motioned him to silence; 
when, being no longer able to master her emotions, she sat 
down by his side, and, covering her face with both hands, be- 
gan to grieve and sob like a child. Poor girl! who could 
measure the depth of her heart’s anguish ? She could not an- 
swer, had she deemed it best. We must answer the question 
for her. But, to do so, to the full understanding of the reader, 
we must again recur to the events of the past, — her troubled 
past, at least, — during the three or four days preceding the 
time of her appearance as an actor in the sad scene before us. 

She had learned from Mrs. Elwood that Claud had pledged 
himself to her that he would return from his expedition within 
the month of April ; and to Fluella, with her undoubting con- 


308 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


fidence in his word, a failure to redeem that pledge would be 
but little less than certain intelligence that some evil had befal- 
len either him or his father, in their unknown place of sojourn 
in the wilderness. Consequently her solicitude — growing out 
of her secretly nourished but overmastering love for him — 
became, as the time approached which was to relieve or realize 
her fears for the result of an expedition undertal^en under such 
dreadful auspices, each day more deep and absorbing. And, 
the last morning but one of the expiring month, she went out 
early on to the rock-bound shore of the lake, on which her 
father’s cabin was situated, and commenced her watch from the 
most commanding points, for the appearance of the expected 
party, on -their way homeward from the upper lakes. And 
during that anxious day, and the still more anxious one that 
followed, she kept up her vigils, with no other cessation than 
what her brief absences for her hastily-snatched meals at the 
house required ; sometimes standing, for an hour at a time, in 
one spot, intently gazing out into the lake, and sometimes mov- 
ing restlessly about, and hurrying from cliff' to cliff*, along the 
beetling shore, to obtain a better observation. But, no appear- 
ance or indications of their coming rewarding her vigils 
during all that time, she retired from the shore, at the approach 
of night, on the last day of April, sad and sick at heart from 
disappointment, and painfully oppressed with apprehension for 
the fate of one for whose safety she felt she would have given 
her own worthless life as a willing sacrifice. But, her feelings 
still allowing her neither peace nor quietude, she left, the house 
after supper ; and, in the light of the nearly full moon, that w'as 
now throwing its mellow beams over the wild landscape, un- 
consciously took her way to the lake-shore, where she had 
already spent so many weary hours in her fruitless vigils. 
Here, climbing a tall rock on the bluff shore, she resumed her 
watch, and long stood, straining both eye and ear to catch sight 
of some moving thing, or the sound of some plashing oar, out 
on the lake, that might indicate the coming, even at this late 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


309 


hour, of the objects of her solicitude. But no such sight or 
sound came up from the sleeping waters, to greet and gladden 
her aching senses. All there was as motionless and silent as 
the plains of the dead. 

The time is past ! ” she at length despairingly muttered, 
slowly withdrawing her gaze, and standing as if to collect her 
thoughts and ponder. “ Yes, passed by, now. lie will not 
come ! ” 

And her ideas immediately reverted to the other alternative 
for which she had before made up her mind, in case the party 
did not return within the- month ; but which, having been kept 
in the background of her thoughts, by her hope of their com- 
ing, now occurred to her with startling effect. She fancied Claud 
the victim of outrage or misfortune, — perhaps wounded and 
dying, by the same hand that might have previously struck 
down his father, — perhaps taken sick on his way home alone, 
and now lying helpless in the woods, where none could witness 
his sufferings or hear his cries for assistance. The thought 
sent a pang through her bosom, the more painful because, being 
something like a legitimate conclusion of her previous reason- 
ing, she could not divest herself of it. She stood bewildered 
in the woes of her thick -coming fancies. The images thus con- 
jured up from her distracting anxieties and excited brain, all 
heightened by the natural inspirations of the place and the 
hour, soon became to her vivid realities. And her burning 
thoughts at once insensibly ran into the form and spirit of one 
of the many beautful plaints of England’s gifted poetess : 

“ I heard a song upon the wandering wind, 

A song of many tones, though one full soul 
Breathed through them all imploringly; and made 
All nature, as they pass’d, — all (Quivering leaves, 

And low responsive reeds and waters, — thrill, 

As with the consciousness of human prayer. 

the tones 

Were of a suppliant. 'Leave me not’ was still 
The burden of their music.” 


810 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


‘‘ I will not leave you ! ” she exclaimed, startling the silent 
glens and grottos around by the wild energy of her tones, and 
eagerly stretching out her hands towards the imagined scene, 
and the suppliant for her ministering services. “ O Claud, I 
will come to you. My love, my life, my more than life, I 
will soon be with you ! Go after him ? ” she resumed, after a 
sudden pause, to which she seemed to be brought by recalling 
her thoughts to their wonted channel, and being startled at the 
sober import of her own words. “ Go in search of him in the 
woods! Yes,” she added, after another long and thoughtful 
pause, — “yes, why not? I cannot, O, I cannot stay here 
another day, with these but too prophetic words, I fear, ring- 
ing in my ears. To be in the same wilderness with him were 
a ))leasure, to the insupportable suspense I must suffer here. 
If I discover all to be well, I need not show myself; but, if it 
be as I fear, O, what ha{)piness to be near him 1 Y^es, it is de- 
cided ; I will start in the morning.” 

And, hastily descending , from her stand, with the firm, 
quick step and decisive air of one whose purpose is fixed, she 
struck off directly for the house ; where, after a few hasty 
preparations, she retired to her bed, and, happily, after the ex- 
hausting cares of the day, was soon quieted into sound and re- 
freshing slumber. 

In accordance with her still unaltered resolution, she rose 
early the next morning; and with an indefinite intimation to 
her family of her intention to be absent among friends a day or 
two, swung to her side a small square basket of nutritious pro- 
visions, took a thick shawl to pi-otecl her f rom the dam[)sol‘the 
night, proceeded directly to her canoe at the landing, em- 
barked, and struck out vigorously along the winding shoi-c, on 
her way to the next u})per lake. A steady but (juiet row of a 
couple of hours took her out of the great lake on which she 
had embarked, up the principal inlet, and into the Maguntio, 
whose western shoi-es, she had understootl, were to be the base 
of the operations of the absent party. Here she turned short 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


311 


to the left, and, drawing in close to land, rowed slowly and 
cautiously along the western shore, following round all the nu- 
merous indentations, and continually sending her searching 
glances up its wooded shores, that no appearance of the trail 
of human beings might escape her observation. 

After rowing two or three miles in this manner, and without 
noticing any thing that particularly attracted her attention, she 
reached the first of the three headlands, making out from this 
side a considerable distance into the lake, beyond the average 
line of the shore. As she was rounding this point, her eye fell 
on a dark protuberance, in a dense thicket a few rods in-shore, 
which appeared of a more oblong and regular form than is 
usual in such places. And, scanning the appearance more 
closely, she soon discerned a small piece of wrought wood, re- 
resembling a part of the blade of an oar, slightly projecting from 
one side of the apparent brush-heap. Starting at the sight, 
she immediately ran her canoe ashore, and proceeded at once 
to the spot ; when, closely peering under the brush-wood, she 
discovered three canoes, with their oars, concealed beneath a 
deep covering of boughs, surmounted by a scraggy treetop 
lying carelessly over them, as if blown from some neighboring 
tree. 

This, to her, was an important discovery; for it told her — 
after she had carefully examined the place, and found that no one 
.had been to the boats since they were concealed, which she 
thought must have been done several weeks before — it told 
her, at once, that the trappers had gone to some distant locality 
among the streams and mountains, to the west or north, from 
wliich they had not yet returned to the lake ; but doubtless 
would so return before proceeding homeward, provided the 
El woods had not both been slain or disabled by their suspected 
companion. The discovery, notwithstanding the light it laid 
thrown on the first movements of the trappers, and much as 
it narrowed the range of her search for them, but littie relieved 
her harrowing apprehensions; and she resolved to proceed 


312 


GAtJT GURLEY J OR, 


up the lake with her observations, which might now as well be 
confined to this side of it, and the larger streams which should 
here be found entering it, and down some of which the com- 
pany, if they came at all, w'ould probably now soon come, on 
their way to the canoes. And, accordingly, she again set forth 
on her solitary journey. But, being conscious that the trap- 
pers might now at any time suddenly make their appearance, 
she proceeded more cautiously, keeping as far as possible out of 
the views that might be taken from distant points of the lake, 
and from time to time turning a watchful eye and ear on the 
shores around and before her. Thus, slowly and timidly advanc- 
ing, she at length reached and rounded the second headland in 
her course, where another and still more interesting discovery 
was in store for her. As she came out from the overhanjrin" 
trees beneath which she had shot along the point, she unex- 
pectedly gained a clear view of the extreme end of the lake, 
with what appeared to be the mouth of a considerable stream, 
and suddenly backed her oar, to pause and reconnoitre ; when 
she soon noticed one spot, near the supposed inlet, which wore 
a different hue from the rest, and which, a closer inspection told 
her, must be imparted by the lingering of undissi})ated smoke, 
from a fire kindled there as late, at least, as that morning. Her 
heart beat violently at the discovery ; for she felt assured that 
the trappers had reached the lake, had encamped there the 
night before, and could not now be many miles distant. Fear- 
ing she should be seen, if she remained longer on the water, 
she at once resolved to conceal her canoe in some place near 
by, and proceed by land through the woods to the spot of the 
supposed encampment, or near enouj h to ascertain how' far her 
conjectures were true, and how far her new-lit hopes were to 
be realized. All this — after many misgiving and many an 
alarm, from the sudden movements of the smaller animals of the 
forest, started out from their coverts Uy her stealthy advance — 
had been by her, at length, succressfully accomplished; the 
camp detected from a neighboring thicket; cautiously ap- 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


313 


proached, finally entered, and the joyful discovery made that 
three persons had slept there the night before. Hieing back, 
like a frighted bird, into the screening forest, she selected a 
covert in a dense thicket on an elevation about an hundred 
yards distant, where, unseen by the most searching eye, she 
could look down into the camp; and there she lay down and 
anxiously awaited the approach of night, and, with it, the ex- 
pected return of the party, who, she felt confident, could be 
no otiiers than those of whom she was in search. And it was 
not all a dream with Claud, when he fancied some one standing 
by his couch of repose. A flitting form had, that nigiit, indeed, 
for a moment hovered over him, looking down, with the sleep- 
less eye of love, on his broken slumbers, and trying to divine, 
perhaps, the very dreams which, through some mysterious 
agency of the mental sympathies, her presence was inciting. 

Although the maiden had now the unspeakable satisfaction 
of knowing that none of her fears had thus far been realized, 
yet she feh keenly sensible that the danger was not over ; and 
she therefore determined that she would not lose sight of the 
objects of her vigilance and anxiety, at least until she had seen 
them embarked for home on the opon lake, where deeds of 
darkness would be less likely to be attempted than in the 
screening forest. She had, therefore, started from her uneasy 
slumbers, the next morning, at daybreak ; watched from her 
covert, with lively concern, the movements in the camp ; and no 
sooner seen them packed up for a start, and headed towards 
their boats, then she shrank noiselessly away from lier conceal- 
ment, which was situated so as to give her considerably the 
start of them ; and fled rapidly down the lake, in a line parallel 
to the one along the shore which the trappers would naturally 
take, and so near it that, from chosen stands, she could see them 
as they came along. And thus, for miles, like the timid ante- 
lope, she hovered on their flank, — now pausing to get a glance 
of them through the trees as they came in sight, and now 
fleeing forward again, for a new position, to repeat the observa- 


S14 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


tion. Up to this time she had kept considerably in advance of 
the moving party ; but now, suddenly missing Claud, she sought 
a covert, and stood watching for him, till Mark Elwood, followed 
by Gaut Gurley, came abreast of the spot she occupied ; when, 
suddenly, the forest shook and trembled from the report of a 
gun, bursting from the bushes, seemingly, almost beneath her 
feet. A single wild glance revealed to her appalled senses 
Gaut Gurley, clenching his smoking rifle, and, with the look of 
an exulting fiend, glaring out from behind a tree, towards his 
prostrate, convulsed, and dying victim. On recovering from 
the deeply paralyzing effect of the horrid spectacle, her first 
thought was for Claud ; and, with the distracting thought, her 
eye involuntarily sought for the murderer of his father, who had 
shrunk back from his position, but whom she soon detected 
hastily reloading his rifle, and then starting, with a quick step, 
along back the path in which he had just come, — in search, as 
her alarmed heart suggested, of another victim for his infernal 
malice. With a sharp, smothered cry of anguish, she bounded 
out from her covert, and flew back, in a line parallel with that 
of the retreating murderer, till she saw him meet the alarmed 
young man hurrying forward to the rescue ; when she suddenly 
paused, and listened with breathless interest to the dialogue we 
have already related as occurring between them. She heard — 
and her heart bounded with pride as she did so — she heard the 
manly and determined language of the young man ; she saw him 
rush by the wretch who waS trying to mislead him. to conceal 
his own crime. But she saw, also, the next moment, with a 
dismay that transfixed her to the spot, the murderous rifle raised, 
and the retreating, unconscious object of its aim stumble for- 
ward to the ground ; then the monster, as if uncertain of the 
execution of his bullet, rush forward, with gleaming knife, ap- 
parently to finish his work; and then disappear in the direction 
of the concealed canoes, now less than a half-mile beyond. All 
this she had witnessed, with an agony which no pen can de- 
scribe ; and then, with the last glimpse of the retiring assassin, 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


m 


flown to the side of his second victim, badly but not fatally 
wounded ; staunched, as she best could, the blood pouring from 
his wounds; hurried off for her canoe, luckily hid near by; 
brought it up to the shore, within a few yards of the spot where 
ne had fallen ; drawgt him gently down to it, and got him into it, 
she knew not how ; and then, after obliterating the trail, en- 
tered herself, and rowed off to the thickly wooded little island, 
a furlong to the northeast, but hid by an intervening point 
from the view of the foe, now supposed to be on his way to the 
boats. Here she had contrived to draw Claud up, in the light 
canoe, on the farthest shore, and, by degrees, got both him and 
the boat on the dry, mossy ground, safely within a thicket 
wholly impervious to outward view. Still fearful of Gant’s re- 
turn, she crept to the south end of the island, which she had 
scarcely reached when she saw him come round the point, 
land, drag down the body of IMark Elwood, take it out some 
distance from the shore, and sink it, by steel-traps and stones tied 
to it, deep in t!ie lake. She then, with lively concern, saw him 
return and proceed towards the spot where Claud had fallen, but 
soon reappear, evidently much disturbed at not finding the body, 
yet not seeming to suspect how it had been disposed of, though 
several times coming down to the edge of the water and peering 
anxiously up and down the lake; but she was soon relieved 
from her fears by seeing him take to his boat, row rapidly 
round the point, there take in tow two other canoes, — which, 
it apj)eared, he had brought up and left there, — and then 
row down the lake, in the direction of the great outlet ; under 
the belief, doubtless, that Claud had revived, struck down 
through the woods for the upper end of the lake below, where, 
if he !md not before sunk down and died of his wounds, he 
might be waylaid and finished. Thus relieved of this pressing 
apprehension, she hurried back to her charge, and careful’y ex- 
amined his wounds; when she found that the bullet, whose 
greatest force had been broken by the obstructing limb, had 
struck near the top of his head, and ploughed over the skull with- 


316 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


out breaking it; that, of the two stabs inflicted, one had been 
turned by the collar-bone, making only a long, surface wound, 
the other had passed through the fleshy part of the arm and 
terminated on a rib beneath, producing a flow of blood, which, 
but for the timely and plentiful application^f beaver-fur, pulled 
from a skin which she saw protruding from his pack, must have 
soon terminated his life. With the drinking-cup she found 
slung to his side, she brought water, washed the wounds, laid 
the ruptured parts in place, and, with plasters of cloth cut from 
her handkerchief, and made adhesive by balsam taken from a 
tree at hand, covered and protected them ; and thus, by tlie ap- 
plication of a skill she learned from her father, placed them in 
a situation where nature, with proper eare, would, of herself, 
complete the sanatory operation. She tlien resumed the pro- 
cess of bathing his head and flice, and, witliin another hour, was 
thrilled with joy in witnessing his return to consciousness, in 
the manner we described before leaving him for this long 
but necessary, digression. 

After giving vent to her painfully laboring emotions a while, 
the maiden softly arose, and, creeping down under the over- 
hanging boughs to the edge of the water, sat down on a stone 
and bathed her throbbing brow, for some time, in the limpid 
wave ; after which, having in a good measure regained her 
usual firmness and tranquillity, she returned to the side of lier 
wounded friend, whom she found wrapt in the deep slumber 
generally produced by exhaustion from loss of blood. After 
gazing a while on his face, with the sad and yearning look of a 
mother on a disease-smitten child, a new thought seemed sud- 
denly to occur to her, and she noiselessly stole away to her 
former lookout, at the south end of the island, where, with a 
brightening eye, she caught sight of the loathed and dreaded 
homicide, just entering the distant outlet. Waiting no longer 
than to feel assured that he had disappeared with the real inten- 
tion of descending the stream, she returned to her still sleeping 
charge, slowly and carefully slid the canoe down into the water> 


THE TRAPPERS OP UL'BAGOG. 


3n 

headed it round with her hands, gained her seat in the stem, 
and pushed out into the lake, shaping her course obliquely 
down it towards the mouth of a small river entering from the 
eastern side, at the lower end of the lake, but still nearly a 
mile distant from the outlet in which the murderer had disap- 
peared. Softly and smoothly as a gently-rocking cradle, the 
light canoe, under the skillfully plied oar of the careful maiden, 
glided through the waveless waters on her destined course, and, 
for more than an hour, steadily kept on its noiseless way, with- 
out once appearing to disturb the repose of the slumbering 
invalid. But, as the hitherto low-looking forest bordering the 
eastern shore began to loom up, and thus apprise the fair rower 
that she was now nearing the point to which she had been di- 
recting her course, she riotice<l, with concern, that the lake was 
beginning to be agitated, even where she then was, from a gaih- 
ering breeze ; while a long, light, advancing line, extending 
across the lake in the distance behind her, plainly told of the 
rapid approach of wind, ’.?hich must soon greatly increase the 
disturbance of the waters, and the consequent rocking of the 
canoe. Knowing how injuriously such motion of the boat 
might affect the invalid, she put forth her utmost strength in 
propelling the canoe forward to reach the quiet haven before 
her, in season to escape the threatened roughness of the water. 
But her best exertions could secure only a partial immunity 
from tlie trouble she tlius sought to avoid. The wind struck 
hs-T long before gaining the place; when, in spite of all her 
endeavors to steady it, the canoe began to lurch and toss among 
tht gatiiering waves ; while the almost immediate awakening 
of the disturbed invalid, his twinges of pain and suj)pressed 
gr*'ans, told her, as they sent responsive thrills of angui'^h 
through her bosom, how much he was suffering from the motion. 
To iier great relief, however, she now soon reached and shot 
b t/i ibe still waters of the stream, and this trouble, at least, was 
cve.T. Here, after passing in out of sight of the lake, she drew 
her and paused to reflect and conclude what should 


318 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


be her next motement ; when Claud, whose head was pillowed 
in the bow of the boat, and whose eye was resting tenderly on 
her downcast countenance, soon read her perplexity, and again 
asked to be informed of all that had happened, and the object 
of her present movement. She told him, — with such reserva- 
tions as maidenly modesty and pride suggested, — she told him 
all she had seen, and in conclusion proposed, as their enemy 
might ambush them, and as it was now drawing towards night, 
and the lake would not be quiet enough for some hours, at least, 
to permit them to proceed, that they should row up the river 
till they found an eligible spot, and encamp for the night. To 
this Claud readily assented ; and they again set forth up the 
gentle stream, that, as before intimated, here came in from the 
southeast ; and, after proceeding some distance, the anxious 
eye of the maiden fell on a place on the left bank, where a tem- 
porary shelter could easily be rigged up, under the wide-spread- 
ing and low-set limbs of a thick-tc[)ped evergreen, which, of 
itself, would be ample protection against the dews of heaven. 
Drawing up the canoe, on land near the tree, in the same man- 
ner as at the island, she proceeded to gather large quantities 
of fine hemlock boughs, and dry, elastic mosses, arrange them 
under the tree, in the form of bed and' pillow, and over the 
whole to spread Claud’s blanket ; thus making a couch as safe 
and comfortable as ever received the limbs of a suffering in- 
valid lJ})on this, partly by his own exertions and partly by 
her assistance, he \vas then, without much difficulty, soon trans- 
ferred from the canoe ; when, with his light hatchet (she ha'dr.g 
brougiit all his implements along with him in the beat), shesern 
ei-ecteci neat, closely-woven wicker walls of boughs, from the; 
ground to the limbs above, on both sides, providing witliin one 
of them a space for herself. She then brought fuel, kindled a 
small fire in front, and took her position at his side, to be ready 
for such ministering offices as his case might seem to require. 
She found that he had again fallen into a j)rofcund slumbei, 
which she at first regarded as a favorable omen ; and, in the 


THE TRAPPERS OP DMBAGOG. ' 


319 


conscious sccuritjof the spot, in tlie belief that he had received 
none cf the injaries she had appreliended from the motion of 
the boat, and, above all, in the indulgence of that overweening 
pndo oi aiTccticn which covets all pains and sacrifices for the 
loved one, sli0 telt a satisfaction which was almost happiness, in 
her situalkn. But it was not destined to be of very long dura- 
tion. She at length began to perceive a gradual reddenini? of 
his cheeks, and tlien, soon after, an increasing shortness of res- 
piration, and a general restlessness of the system. Alarmed at 
these symptoms, she felt his pulse, and at once discovered that 
he was in a high fever, supervening from his wounds, and 
caused, or much aggravated, doubtless, by the jostling of the 
boat on his way hither. Starting back, as if some unexpected 
calamity had suddenly fallen upon her, she stood some minutes 
absorbed in earnest self-consultation. What should she do? 
She could not, dare not, even were it daytime, leave him to go 
miles away for her father, or others, for aid or advice. No ; she 
must stay by him. And, having seen the alleviating effects of 
cold water in fevers and inflammations, and knowing that there 
were no other remedies within reach, she at once decided on its 
application. Accordingly, with her cup of water at her side, 
and a'piece of soft, clean moss in her hand, she began sponging 
his face, neck, and the flesh around his wounds ; and repeating 
this process at short intervals, she continued the tender assiclui- 
ties, Avith only occasional snatches of repose, till the welcome 
morning light broke over the forest. She then rose, and, with 
a miniature camp-kcttle found among her patient’s effects, pre- 
pared some gruel from the pounded parched corn which she 
had brought with her. This he mechanically took from her 
hand, when aroused for the purpose, but immediately relapsed 
ftgain into the same state of unconsciousness and stupor m 
he had lain through the night. Through the day and 
E:V»'t followed, but little variation was discernible in his 
oor v.dm, and as little was made in his treatment, by his fair, 
i:\s aurse. Through the next day and nigh: it v/as still 


320 


GAUT GUKLEY ; OR, 


the same ; but towards night, on the third day aflter his attack, 
he began to show signs of amendment, and before dark his 
fever had entirely subsided. Perceiving this, the rojoio('d 
maiden prepared him some more stimulating nourishment, in 
the shape of bi’oth made from jerked venison. Having j>ar- 
taken freely of this, he then, with a whispered “ I a'ni mitcfi 
better^ Flnella^' sank back on his couch, and was soon buried 
in a sweet and tranquil slumber.^ Having carefully adjusted 
his blanket around him, and added her own shawl to the cover- 
ing, and being now once more relieved of her most [iressing 
fears for his fate, the exhausted girl laid down on her own 
rude couch, and, before she was aware, fell into a slumber so 
deep and absorbing that she never once awoke till the sun was 
peering over the eastern mountains the next morning. Her 
first waking glance was directed to the couch of the invalid. 
It was empty. Starting to her feet, with a countenance almost 
wild with concern, she hurriedly ran her eye through the forest 
around her; when, with a suppressed exclamation of joyful 
surprise, she soon caught sight of his form, slowly making Ids 
way back from a short walk, which he had, on awakening, an 
hour before, found himself able to take, along a smooth and 
level path on the bank of the river. 

But we have not the space, nor even the ability, to portray 
adequately the restrained but lively emotions of joy and the 
charming embarrassment that thrilled the tumultuously-beating 
bosom of the one, and the deep gratitude and silent admiration 
that took possession of the other, of this singularly situated 
young couple, during the succeeding scenes of Claud’s now rai)id 
convalescence. Sufiice it to say, that, on the afternoon of the 
second day but one from this auspicious morning, they were on 
their happy way down through the lakes and the connecting 
river, to the chief’s residence, where they safely arrived some 
hours before night, and where they were greeted wdth demon- 
Btrations of delight which told what anxieties had been suilored 
on their account. Here, for the first time, they learned that thd 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOO. 


321 


murderer had been taken and carried to the village for his pre- 
liminary trial ; that the examination had been posti)oned, to 
allow the prisoner time to send for his counsel ; and that the hear- 
ing was to commence that very evening, though the hunter, who 
had that day made a hurried journey to the chief’s, to sec if 
P luella had returned or Claud been heard from, had expressed 
great fears that the evidence yet discovered might not be deemed 
Buthcient to convict him of murder, and perhaps not to imprison 
him for a final trial. Claud, perceiving at once the importance 
of F'luella’s testimony, as well as of his own, proposed that they 
should immediately proceed that evening down the lakes to the 
place of trial. But neither the chief nor his daughter would 
suffer him to undertake the journey that night. At her earnest 
suggestion, however, it was at length arranged that she, accom- 
panied by her half-brother, a lad of fifteen, should go down that 
evening, and that the chief, with Claud, should follow early the 
next morning. 

In pursuance of this arrangement, the resolute girl and her 
attendant, as soon as she had changed her dress and refreshed 
herself with a meal, embarked on the lake, and, at the end of 
the next hour, they reached the Great Rapids, leading, as be- 
fore described^ down into the Umbagog. Here her brother, 
whose eye and car, ever since they started, had often been turned 
suspiciously to a dark, heavy cloud, which, seeming to hang 
over the upper portions of the Magalloway, had boen continu- 
ally sending forth peals of heavy thunder, hesitated about pro- 
ceeding any farther, and warned his unheeding sister of their 
liability of being overtaken by the thunder-storm. But, finrl- 
ing her determined to proceed, if she was compelled to do so 
alone, he yielded, and, landing their canoe at the usual carrying 
places, they shot rapidly down the stream, and in less than an- 
other hour came out on the broad Umbagog, just as darkness 
was beginning to enshroud its waters, and cut off their view of 
the distant shores for which they were destined. But for the 

light of day they found an ample substitute in the electric 
21 


322 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


displays, which, lighting up the lake to the blaze of noonday, 
were every instant leaping from the black, angry clouds, now 
evidently passing off, with one almost continued roar of rever* 
berating thunders, but a few miles to the north of them. A 
rapid row of about three miles now brought them to the foot 
of the lake, where the maiden had proposed to enter the river, 
and row down it to the swift water, a short distance above the 
village, and then proceed by land. Here, however, her course 
was unexpectedly impeded by one of those paradoxical occur- 
rences which is peculiar to the spot, and which often hajtpens 
on great and sudden rises of the Magalloway, that, though en- 
tering the Androscoggin a mile down its course, thus lew'omes 
higher than the level of the Umbagog, and pours its i- .irplus 
waters along up its stream in the channel of the ri for last 
named, with a strong, rushing cun’ent into the lake. .'V..:. our 
adventurers now found that masses of tangled trees, K-vb-togs, 
and all sorts of flood-wood, were driving so strongly and thickly 
up this channel that it would be in vain for them to attempt to 
proceed in that direction. But the purpose of the heroic girl 
to reach the village, by some means or other, was not to be thus 
shaken. She directed the boat to be rowed back to the Elwood 
Landing, where, leaving it, she with her attendant took the path 
to the cottage ; and reaching this, and finding all dark within 
she boldly led the way down the long road to the bridge, miles 
below, with no other light than the still lingering flashes of 
lightning afforded to her hurrying footsteps. But it was not till 
after an exhausting walk, and some time past midnight, that she 
reached the bridge leading over the river to the tavern, where 
the trial was proceeding ; and then only to encounter another 
great obstacle to her progress. On coming up to the bridge, 
she perceived, with astonishment and dismay, that one-half of 
the structure, with the exception of a single string-piece, the 
only connection now remaining between the two sides of the 
river, had been swept away by the sudden flood, or the revolv- 
ing trees it bone on its rushing surface. She also ascertained, 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


323 


froili a woman still up, watching with a sick chilrl. in a house 
near by, that every boat on that side the river had been either 
carried off by the unexpected freshet, or taken since the 
bridge went crfF, by persons still coming in, to get over to the 
exciting trial, which, it was understood, would occupy the whole 
night. After pausing a moment, the still unshaken maid(*n bor- 
rowed and lighted a lantern, when, without disclosing her j)ur- 
pose, she left the house and proceeded directly to the end of 
the string-piece. She first examined it carefully, and finding it 
broad, level, and fixed in its bed, she then mounted the dizzy 
beam, and stood for a moment glancing down on the wild rush 
of roaring waters beneath. Her movements, to which the light 
she carried had attracted attention, were by this time seen and 
comprehended by the crowd around the tavern, on the opposite 
’side, who now came rushing to the other end of the bridge, 
to deter her from the bold attempt. But she heeded them not ; 
and in a moment more was seen, with a quick, firm step, glid- 
ing over the awful chasm ; in another, she had reached the 
end, and stood in safety on the planks beyond, — where she was 
gri'eted by the throng, who had witnessed with amazement the 
perilous passage, in a shout of exultation at her escape, that 
rose loud a7/i wild above the roar of the waters around them. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


** So those two voices met ; so Joy and Death 
Mingled their accents ; and, amidst the rush 
Of many tliouglits, the listening poet cried, 

0 ! thou art mighty, thou art wonderful, 

Mysterious Nature ! Not in thy free range 
Of woods and wilds alone, thou blondest thus 
The dirge note and the song of festival ; 

Sut in one heart, one changeful human heart, — 

Ay, and within one hour of that strange world, — 

Thou caH’st their music forth, with all its tones 
To startle and to pierce! — the dying Swan’s, 

And the glad Sky-lark’s, — Triumph and Despair 1 ” 

Our tale is running rapidly to a close ; and we must no 
Eiore loiter to gather flowers by the wayside, but depict the 
events which now come tliicklyr crowding together, to make up 
the mingled catastrophe. 

When the sheriff and his scores of exulting assistants reached 
the village with their prisoner, — the desperate villain, wliora 
they had, with so much difficulty and danger, dislodged and 
seized in his rocky den in the mountains, — the latter requested 
a postponement of his examination till the afternoon of the 
next day, that he might have time to send for, and obtain, his 
lawyer. This request was the more readily granted, as the 
party eent up the lakes with Moose-killer, for more evidence, 
had not yet i-eturned, and as their expected discoveries, or at 
least their presence with those already made, might and would 
be required to fasten the crime, in law, on the undoubted 
criminal. The court, therefore, was adjourned to an indefinite 
Locr the next afternoon ; and the crowd, except the court, its 
officers, and those fr'jin a distance, dispersed to assemble, the 

( 324 ) 


THE TRAPPERg OP UMBAGOO. 


325 


next day, with increased numbe"f:, to witness tlie final disposal 
of one who had now become, in the minds of all, the monster 
outlaw of the settlement. Tlie prisoner was then taken to an 
adjoining old and empty log-house, a straw-bed laid on the 
floor for him, and a strong guard placed over him, both within 
and around the house without ; so that, being constantly under 
the eyes of vigilant, well-armed men, there should be no pos- 
sibility of his escape, either by his own exertions, or by the 
aid of secret accomplices. And these precautions being faith- 
fully observed, the night wore away without alarm, or any 
kind of disturbance. The fore part of the succeeding day also 
passed, though people soon began to pour into the village from 
all quarters, with singular quietness, — all seeming to be op- 
pressed with that deep feeling of hushed expectation which 
may often be seen to predispose men to a sort of restless 
silence, on the known eve of an exciting event. And, through 
the whole of it, no incident or circumstance transpired alfecting 
the great interest of the occasion, till about noon ; when the 
news spread that the anxiously-awaited party from the upper 
lakes were approaching. As they came up to the tavern, the 
now excited crowd quickly closed around them, and eagerly 
listened to their report. Of Claud Elwood, whom they had 
unknowingly passed and repassed, on their way up and down 
the lakes, while he was lying helpless in the secluded retreat 
to which his fair and devoted presetwer had conveyed him 
they had heard nothing, seen nothing, and discovered no clues 
by which his locality or fate oould be traced or conjectured. 
But they had visited, and carefully examined, the place pointed 
out by Moose-killer as the one where Mark Elwood was sup- 
posed to have been slain ; and, although they had failed to find 
the body on the land, or in the lake, with the best means they 
could command for dragging it, and although time had measur- 
ably effaced the traces by which the sagacious Indian had 
judged of the suspected deed, yet eveiy appearance went to 
confirm the strict accuracy of his previous account. And, in 


3‘26 


6AUT GURLEY ; Oil, 


addition, they at last found, slightly imbedded in the bark of ft 
tree, in the range of the path, and a short distance to the south 
of the spot, a rifle bullet, which had evidently been, before 
striking the tree, smeared with a bloody substance, and also 
slightly flattened, as it might naturally have been, in striking a 
bone, on its way through a man’s body. This seemed to 
establish, as a fact, the commission of a murder; but on whom 
committed was still left a debatable question. The movers 
of the prosecution had hoped, through this mission up the lakes, 
to obtain evidence which would conclusively establish the guilt 
of the prisoner. But, to effect this, and thus insure his con- 
viction. something more conclusive was still obviously wanting. 
And it was then that the indefatigable hunter made, as the 
reader has ah’eady been apprised, his last rapid but fruitless 
journey to the chiefs residence, in the hope that his mys- 
teriously absent daughter might have returned with discoveries 
that would complete the chain of evidence. He having come 
back, however, without accomplishing any part of his object, 
and the prisoner’s counsel having arrived, and, after a consult- 
ation with his client, become strangely clamorous to proceed at 
once to the examination, they finally concluded to go into the 
hearing with the presumptive evidence in possession, and*, 
backing it with the showing of Gaut’s previously suspicious 
character, for which they were now well prepared, call them- 
selves willing to abide the retxilt. All this being now settled, 
the court was declared open, and the counsel for the prosecution 
was requested to proceed with the case. 

After the attorney for the prosecution had read the papers 
on which it was founded, and made a statement of what was ex- 
pected to be proved in its support, the witnesses in that behalf 
wore called and sworn. The first testimony introduced was 
that 01 Codman and others, to show the deep malice and implied 
threats of revenge which the prisoner had so clearly exhibited 
towards the supposed murdered man, in the prosecution of 
which the latter was a principal mover, the winter before. But 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


327 


tins evidence, when sifted by the long and severe cross-ex- 
amination that followed, and found to consist, instead of definite 
words, almost wholly of menacing looks and other silent 
demonstrations of rage, which are ever extremely difficult to 
bring out in words with their original effect, amounted to so 
little that the prisoner’s counsel attempted to turn it into ridicule 
with considerable show of success. Testimony in relation to 
the canoe of the Elwoods, recently found washed up among 
the rapids, which was next introduced, was found, when tested 
in the same way, in despite of the opinions of the practical 
boatmen who were the witnesses, to be almost equally incon- 
clusive of the prisoner’s guilt; so much so, indeed, that his 
counsel seemed greatly inclined to appropriate it, as showing 
the probable manner in which the Elwoods, if they were not 
still both alive, had come to their end. 

By this time, — as the court of inquiry was not opened till 
nearly sunset, and as the examinations, cross-examinations, and 
preliminary speeches of the opposing counsel, on disputed points 
of evidence, had been drawn out to seemingly almost intermi- 
nable lengths, — by this time, it was nearly midnight ; and the 
prosecuting party now proposed an adjournment till morning. 
But this was strenously opposed by Gaut’s lawyer, who, affect- 
ing to believe that the whole affair was a malicious prosecution 
growing out of the suit last winter, and got up by certain men 
who had banded together to revenge their defeat on that occa- 
sion, and ruin his client, boldly demanded that the prisoner 
should be discharged, or his conspiring enemies be compelled 
to proceed at once with “ their sham prosecution,” as he put 
on the face to call it. 

This stand, which was obviously instigated by the prisoner 
himself, who narrowly watched the proceedings, and, from time 
to time, was seen whispering in the ear of his counsel, produced 
the desired effect : the motion was overruled, and the counsel 
for the prosecution told to go on with his evidence. 

Moose-killer was then called on to the witnesses* stand, 


328 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


when, for the first time, Gaut exhibited evident signs of un- 
easiness, and whispered something in the ear of his counsel, 
wlio thereupon rose and went into a labored argument against 
(he admissibility of the evidence of an Indian, who was a pagan, 
and knew nothing about the God whose invocation constituted 
the sacred effect of the oath he had taken. But, on the ques- 
tioning of the coui’t, Moose-killer declared his full belief in the 
white Christian’s God and Bible, and this objection was over- 
ruled, and the witnesss requested to proceed with his story. 

The demure Indian, unmoved by the burning and vengeful 
eye of Gaut, which was kept constantly riveted upon hini, then 
succinctly but clearly related all the facts, of which the reader 
has been apprised in the preceeding pages, in relation to the 
atrocious deed under investigation. And at the conclusion of 
his story he produced the bullet found imbedded in the tree, 
called attention to its smeared and flattened appearance, and 
then asked for the prisoner’s rifle, to see whether it would 
fit in the bore. The rifle in question was then brought into 
court, the bullet applied to the muzzle, and pronounced an exact 
fit! A shout of exultation burst from the crowd, and in a tone 
so significant of the public feeling, and of their unanimous 
opinion on this point, that for a moment both the prisoner and 
his counsel were completely disconcerted. But, soon rallying, 
the latter started to his feet, and, having summoned back to 
its place his usual quantum of brass, demanded “ the privilege 
of just looking at that rifle they were all making such a fuss 
about.” It was accordingly handed to him ; when, after notic- 
ing the size of the bore, which was a common one, and then 
glancing at some other rifles held in the hands of different 
spectators, he confidently requested that the first half-dozen 
rifles to be found, among the crowd should be brought on to 
the stand. Five of the designated number were soon gathered * 
and brought forward ; and it was found, in the comparison, 
that three of them were of the same bore as that of Gaut, 
aod that the ball in question would fit one as weii as another. 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


329 


“ There ! what has become of your bullet evidence now ? ** 
eneeringly exclaimed the exulting attorney. “ Wondrous con- 
clusive. a’n’t it ? But, as weak as the whole story is, I will 
make it still weaker. It is my turn with you now, my foxy 
red friend,” he added, settling back in his seat to commence his 
cross-examination. 

His vaunted cross-examination, however, resulted in giving 
him no advantage. The Indian could not be made, in the 
whole hour the brow-beating inquisitor devoted to him, either 
to cross himself or vary a single statement of his direct testi- 
mony, and he was petulantly ordered to leave the stand. 

“Not done talk yet,” said Moose-killer, lingering, and 
glancing inquiringly to the court and the counsel for the prose- 
cution. “ More story me tell yet.” 

Gaut’s lawyer looked up doubtfully to the witness ; but, think- 
ing he must have told all he could to implicate the prisoner, 
and that . any thing now added might show discrepancies, of 
which some advantage could be taken, remained silent, and, 
for once, interposed no objection to letting the Indian take his 
own course ; when the latter, on receiving an encouraging inti- 
mation to speak from the other attorney, proceeded, in his pe- 
culiarly broken but graphic manner, to make in substance the 
following extraordinary revelation : 

About ten years ago (he said), there came, from what part no- 
body knew, a strange, questionable personage, into the neighbor- 
hood of a few families of St. Francois Indians, encamping for the 
hunting season around the head-water lakes of the Long River, 
as he termed the Connecticut, and went to trapping for sable and 
beaver. But he soon fell into difficulties with the Indians, who 
believed he robbed their traps ; and with one family in partic- 
ular he had a fierce and bitter altercation. This family had a 
small child, that began to ramble from the wigwam out into 
the woods, and that, one night, failed to come home. They 
suspected who had got it, and next day followed the trail to 
the man’s camp ; when they soon found where the child had 


330 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


been butchered, cut up, and used to bait his sable-traps I But 
the monster, becoming alarmed, had fled, and neVer afterwards 
could be found.” 

With this. Moose-killer, who had evidently put his story in 
this shape to avoid interruption, suddenly paused, and then, with 
one hand raised imploringly towards the court and the other 
stretched out menacingly towards the prisoner, wildly ex' 
claimed : 

“ O, that was my child I and this was the man who murdered 
it!” 

A thrill of horror ran through the crowd as the witness came 
to the conclusion of his revolting story. And so completely 
were all taken by surprise by the startling, and as most of them 
believed truthful, revelation, and so great was the sensation 
produced by the appalling atrocities it disclosed, that the pro- 
ceedings of the court were for some moments brought to a dead 
stand. But soon the shrill, harsh voice of Gaut’s lawyer was 
heard rising above the buzz of the excited crowd, and bursting in 
a storm of denunciation and abuse on the witness, and all those 
who had a hand in bringing him forward, to thrust in, against 
all rule, such a story, — which, if true, had no more to do 
with the prosecution now in progress than the first chapter of 
the Alcoran. But it was not true. It was a monstrous fab- 
rication. It represented as a fact what never occurred in all 
Christendom. It was stamped with falsehood on the face of it; 
and not only spoke for itself as such, but was a virtual self-im- 
peachment of the witness, whose whole testimony the court 
should now throw to the winds. And so, for the next half-hour, 
he went on, ranting and raving, till the court, interposing, as- 
sured him that the witness’ last story would not be treated as 
testimony in the case ; when he became pacified, and took his 
seat. 

The counsel on the other side, who, during his opponent’s ex- 
plosive display of rhetorical gas and brimstone, had been hold- 
ing an earnest consultation with Phillips (now also at hand with 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 


831 


a disclosure which had been reserved for the present moment) , 
then calmly rose, and said he had a statement to make, which 
he stood ready to substantiate, and to which he respectfully 
asked the attention of the court, as a matter that should be taken 
into the account in considering the prisoner’s guilt in the pres- 
ent case, it being one of the many offences that appeared to 
have marked his career of almost unvarying crime and iniquity. 
He was well aware of the general rule of evidence, which ex- 
cludes matters not directly connected wdtli the point at issue ; but 
there were cases in which that rule often had, and necessarily 
ever must be, materially varied, — as in the mm. con. cases re- 
ported in the books, where previous like acts were admitted, 
to show the probability of the commission of the one charged, 
and also in cases like the present, resting, as he admitted it 
thus far did, on presumptive evidence. In this view, notwith- 
standing all that had been said or intimated, he believed the 
concluding testimony of the last witness proper to be considered 
in balancing the presumptions of the prisoner’s guilt or inno- 
cence. And especially relevant did he deem the statement, 
and the introduction of the evidence he had at hand to substan- 
tiate it, which he had now risen to offer. But, even were it 
otherwise, it would soon be seen that the step he was about to 
take would be particularly suitable to be taken while the court 
and the officers of justice were together, and the prisoner under 
their control. With these preliminaiy remarks, he would now 
proceed with the statement he had proposed. 

“ This man,” continued the attorney (whom we will now re- 
port in the first person), “ the man who stands here charged, and, 
in the minds of nine out of ten of all present, I fearlessly af- 
firm, justly charged, with a murder, to the deliberate atrocity 
of which scarce a parallel can be found in the world’s black 
catalogue of crime, — this man, I say, is a felon-refugee from 
British justice. 

“ Many years ago, — as some here present may know, as a 
matter of history, — a secret and somewhat extended conspiracy 


S32 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


to subvert the government of Lower Canada was seasonably 
discovered and crushed at Quebec, which was its principal seat, 
and which, according to the plan of the conspirators, was to be 
the first object of assault and seizure. This was to be effected 
by the contemporaneous rising of a strong force within the city, 
headed by a bold adventurer, a bankrupt merchant from Rhode 
Island, and of an army of raftsmen, collected from the rivers, 
without, led on by a reckless and daring, half-Scotch, hall-ln- 
dian Canadian, who had acquired great influence over that 
restless and rufiian class of men. The former had been in the 
province in the year before, and, from witnessing the popular 
disaffection then rampant from the enforcement of an odious 
act of their Parliament to compel the building of roads, had, 
with the instigation of such desperate fellows as the latter, his 
Canadian accomplice, conceived this plot, acid had now come 
on, with a small band of recruits, to carry it into execution ; 
when, as all was nearly ripe for the outbreak, the whole plot 
was discovered. The poor Yankee leader was seized, tried 
for high treason, condemned to death, and strung up by the 
neck from the walls of Quebec.* But the more wary and for- 
tunate Canadian leader, though tenfold more guilty, escaped 
into the wilderness, this side of the British line ; lingered a year 
or two in this region, trapping and robbing the Indians ; then 
took to smuggling ; engaged in the service of the man Avhose 
murder we are now investigating, followed him to the city, 
nearly ruined him there, and then dogged him to this settlement 
to complete his destruction.” 

“ Who do you mean ? ” thundered Gaut Gurley. 

“Ask your own conscience,” replied the attorney, feailessly 
confronting the prisoner. 

“’Tis false as hell !” rejoined Gaut, vvith a countenance con- 
vulsed with rage. 

“ No, you mistake, — it is as true as hell,” promptly retorted 

* See Christie’s History of Lower Canada 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


333 


the other ; “ or, rather, as true as there is one for such wretches 
as you. Mr. Phillips,” he added, turning to the hunter, who 
stood a little in the background, with his rifle poised on his left 
arm, with an air of carelessness, but, as a close inspection would 
have shown, so grasped by his right hand, held down out of 
sight, as to enable him to bring it to an instant aim, — “ Mr. 
Phillips, were you in the habit of going to Quebec, fall and 
spring, to dispose of your peltries, about the time of this plotted 
insurrection?” 

“ I was.” 

“Did you ever have the Canada leader I have spoken of 
pointed out to you, previous to the outbreak ? ” 

“ Often, on going down the Chaudiere river, oflen ; why, I 
knew him by sight as well as the devil knows his hogs ! ” 

“ Did you afterwards see and identify him in this region ? ” 

“ I did.” 

“Is not, then, all I have stated true ; and is not the prisoner, 
here, the man ? ” 

“ All as true as the Gospel of St. Mark ; and that is the 
man. the very man ; under the oath of God, I swear it ! ” 

During this brief but terribly pointed dialogue, Gaut Gurley, 
— whose handcuffs, on his complaint that they galled his wrists, 
had been removed after he came into court, — sat watching 
Phillips with that same singularly sinister expression which we 
have, on one or two previous occasions, tried to describe him as 
exhibiting. It was a certain indescribable, whitish, lurid light, 
fla-^hing and quivering over his countenance, that made the be- 
holder involuntarily recoil. And, as the last words were uttered, 
his hand was seen covertly stealing up under the lapel of his 
coat ; but it was instantly arrested and dropped, at the sharp 
click of the cocking of the hunter's rifle, which was also seen 
stealing up to his shoulder. 

“ Nonsense ! ” half audiblj said the sheriff, to something 
which, during the bustle and sensation following these mani- 
festations, the hunter had been whispering in his ear ; “ non- 


334 GAUT GURLEY; OB, 

sense ! I searched him myself, and know there is nothing of the 
kind about him.” 

“ I am not so sure about that,” responded the hunter, edging 
along through the crowd, with his eye still on the prisoner, and 
soon disappearing out of the door. 

This little judicial interlude in the remarks of the attorney 
being over, lie resumed : 

“ My statement having been thus corroborated, and, as I am 
most happy to find, without any of the expected interruptions, 
it now only remains for me to say, that this indefatigable Mr. 
Phillips, becoming perfectly convinced that the prisoner was a 
man of whom it was a patriotic duty to rid the settlement, has, 
within the last two months, made a journey into Canada ; ob- 
tained a written official request from the governor-general, 
addressed to the governor of New Hampshire, for the delivery 
of Gaut Gurley, at the time when, on notice, the proper officers 
would be in waiting to receive him; that our governor has 
responded by issuing his warrant; which,” he continued, draw- 
ing out a document, “ I now, in this presence, deliver to the 
sheriff, to be served, but only served, in case we fail — as I do 
not at all anticipate — to secure the commitment and final con- 
viction of the prisoner, on the flagitious offence now under in- 
vestigation, and loudly demanding expiation under our own 
violated laws, in preference to delivering him up for the pun- 
ishment of other and less crying felonies.” 

The prisoner and his counsel, on this new and unexpected 
development, held an earnest whispered consultation. The 
latter had supposed, till almost the last moment, that his oppo- 
nent was intending only to bring in another piece of what he 
deemed wholly irrelevant testimony, in the shape of another 
gone-by transaction ; and he was preparing another storm of 
wrath for the judicial outrage. But, when he found that the 
statement was a preliminary to a different and more alarming 
movement, and especially when he saw placed in the sheriff’s 
bands a wai'i ant for delivering up his client to the British, to be 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


335 


tried for a former felony, from the punishment of which, he 
feared, from what he had just heard, there would be no escape, 
he was sadly nonplussed, and knew not which way to turn 
himself. And it was not until Gaut, who. though thus suddenly 
brought .into a dilemma which he was little expecting, was yet 
at no loss to decide on his course, — that of making every pos- 
sible effort to escape the more immediate pending danger, and 
then of trusting to chance for eluding the more remote one just 
brought to view, — it was not till Gaut, with assurances of the 
last being but a miserable, trumped-up affair, had pushed and 
goaded him up to action, that the dumbfounded attorney re- 
covered his old confidence. He then straightened back in his 
seat, and, with the air of one who has meekly borne some im- 
position, or breach of privilege, till it can be borne no longer, 
turned gruffly to his opponent, and said : 

“ Well, sir, having dragged every thing into this case except 
what legitimately belongs to it, I want to know if you are 
through, now ? We, on our side, have no need of introducing 
testimony to meet any thing you have yet been able to show. 
Why. you have not even established the first essential fact to be 
settled in prosecutions for homicide. You have arraigned my 
client for killing a man, and yet have shown nobody killed ! 
No, IT? shall introduce no witne.sses till the body of the alleged 

murdered man is produced ; for, till then, no court on earth 

But I am not making a speech, and will not anticipate. All I 
intend sd was, to ask, as 1 do again, are you through with your 
evider ce now ? ” 

The attorney for the prosecution then admitted — rather |>re- 
maturely, as it was soon seen — that he thought of nothing more 
which he wished to introduce. 

“ Go on with your opening speech, then,” resumed the 
former. 

“ No,” said the other, “ I waive my privilege of the opening 
and close, and will only claim the closing speech.” 

“ O, very well, sir,” said Gaut’s lawyer, throwing a surprised 


GAtTT GURLEY J OR, 


m 

and suspicious look around, as if to see whether some trap was 
not involved in this unexpected waiver of the usually claimed 
privilege. “ Very well ; don’t blame you ; shouldn’t think you 
could find honest materials even for one speech.” 

The hard-faced attorney, who was reputed one of the best of 
what are sometimes termed deviV s lawyers, in all that part of the 
country, then consequentially gathered up his minutes of the 
testimony, glanced over them, and, clearing his throat, com- 
menced his great final speech, which was to annihilate his 
opponent, and quash the whole pioceedings of the prosecution. 

But he had scarcely spoken ten words, before a tremendous 
shout, rising somewhere in the direction of the bridge, — to which 
their attention had been before called, when a part of it had 
been swept away during the first hours of the night, — broke and 
reverberated into the room, bringing him to an instant stand. 
Feeling that something extraordinary had occurred, the startled 
court, parties and spectators, alike paused, and eagerly listened 
'or something further to explain the sudden outbreak. But, 
'or several minutes, all was still, or hushed down to the low hum 
of mingling voices, and not a distinct, intelligible sound reached 
their expectant senses. Soon, however, the noise of trampling 
feet and the rush of crowds was heard, and perceived to be 
rapidly approaching the door of the court-room. And the 
next moment the clear, loud voice of the now evidently excited 
hunter was heard exultantly ringing out the announcement: 

“ A witness, a new witness ! A witness that saw the very 
deed ! ” 

I'his sudden and exciting announcement of an occurrence 
which had been hopv’.d for, in some shape, on one side, and 
feared on the other, but, at this late hour of the night, little ex- 
pected by either, at once threw all within the crowded court- 
room into bustle and commotion. Both parties to the prosecu- 
tion were consequently taken by surprise ; and both, though 
neither of them were yet apprised of the character of the wit- 
ness, were aroused and agitated by the significant announce- 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAOOO. 


837 


merit. But, of, all present, none seemed so much stirred as the 
obdurate prisoner, who had, thus far in the examination, 
scarcely once wholly lost his usual look of bold assurance, but 
who now was seen casting rapid, uneasy, and evidently ti'oubled 
glances towards the door; doubtless expecting, each moment, 
to see the fear which had haunted him from the first — that 
Claud Llwood would turn up alive, and appear in court against 
him — realized in the person of the new witness, llis lawyer 
also, appeared to be seized with similar apprehensions ; and, 
the next moment, he was heard loudly demanding the attention 
of the court. He objected, he pointecH(f objected, he protestedy 
in advance, against the admission of further testimony. He had 
^borne every thing during the hearing, but c«>uld not bear this. 
The pleas were closed, and the case concluded against the in- 
troduction of new evidence ; and that, too, by the express no- 
tice and agreement of the counsel for the prosecution. And 
now to open it would be in glaring violation of all rule, all 
law, and all precedent. In short, it would be an outrage too 
gross to be tolerated anywhere but in a land of despotism. 
And, if the court would not at once decide to exclude the threat- 
ened testimony, he must be heaj’d at length on the subject. 

But the court declining so to decide, and intimating that they 
were willing to hear an argument on the point, of any reason- 
able length, he spread himself for the wordy onset. The slierilf, 
— who, in the mean time, had started for the door to make an 
opening in the crowd for the expected entrance, — seeing that a 
long speech was in prospect, now went out, conducted the prof- 
fered witness, in waiting near by, to another room in the house 
to remain there till called ; and then returned, and, in a low 
tone, made some communication to the court. 

The pertinacious lawyer then went on with his heated pro- 
test, as it might be called fiir more properly than an argument, 
to the length of nearly an hour. The calm, manly, and cogent 
reply of his opponent occupied far less time, but obtained far 
more favor with the sitting magistrates ; who, after a short con* 


338 


GAUT GURLEY; OB, 


sultation among themselves, unanimously decided to hear the 
proposed evidence, and thereupon ordered the sheriff to conduct 
the witness at once into court. 

A breathless silencfi now ensued in the court-room, and every 
eye was involuntarily turned towards the door. In a few min- 
utes the sheriff, closely followed by two females, made his ap- 
pearance, and cleared his way up to the stand tliat had been 
occupied by the witnesses. No names had been announee<l, 
and both the ladies were veiled, so that their faces could not be 
seen in the dusky apartment, lighted only by two dim candles, 
made dimmer, seemingly,by the morning twilight, then beginning 
to steal through the windows, and to produce that dismal and 
almost sickening hue peculiar to the equal mingling of the natural 
light of day with the artificial light of lamp or taper. And it was 
not consequently known, except to one or two individuals, who 
they were ; but enough was seen, in the enlarged form and 
sober tread of the one, and in the rounded, trim figure and 
elastic step of the other, to show the former to be a middle 
aged matron, and the latter a youthful maiden. Each was 
garbed in rich black silk, to which were added, in the one case, 
some of the usual emblems of mourning, and in the other, a 
few simple, tastily contrasted, light trimmings. 

“ What are these ladies’ names ? or rather, first, I will ask, 
which of them is the witness ? ” said the leading magistrate. 

I am, I suppose,” said the maiden, in tones as soft and 
tremulous as the lightly-touched chord of some musical instru- 
ment, as she threw back her veil, and disclosed a beauty of 
features and sweetness of countenance that at once raised a 
buzz of admiration through the room. 

“ Your name, young lady ? ” 

‘‘ Fluella, sir ; and this lady at my side is Mrs. Mark Elwood, 
who comes only as my friend.” 

“ You understand the usages of courts, I conclude ; and, if 
aO) will now receive the oath, and go on to tell what you know 


THD TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOO. 335> 

relativo. to the crime for which, you have doubtless heard, the 
prisoner here is arraigned.” 

At once raising her hand, she was sworn, and proceeded di- 
rectly to state that part of the transaction she had witnessed on 
the lake, which the hunter, in the conversation she found means 
to have with him while waiting to be taken into court, had 
advised her was all that would be important as evidence in the 
case. 

Gaut Gurley, the alarmed prisoner, who at first had appeared 
greatly relieved on finding that the announced witness was not 
the reanimated young Elwood, as he had feared, now spemed 
utterly at fault to conjecture what either of these women could 
know of his crime. But the moment the maiden, whom he had 
seen the previous year, and regarded with jealous dislike, as 
the possible rival of his daughter, revealed herself to his view, 
his looks grew dark and suspicious ; and when she commenced 
by mentioning, as she did at the outset, that she was on a 
boat excursion along the western shore of the Maguntic, on the 
well-remembered day when he consummated his long cherished 
atrocity, he seemed to comprehend the drift of what was com- 
ing, and his eyes fastened on her with the livid glare of a tiger; 
while those demoniac flashes, before noted as the usual percursor 
of hellish intent with him, began to burn up and play over his 
contracting countenance. 

But these suspicious indications had escaped the notice of 
all, — even of the watchful hunter, whose looks, with those of 
the rest, were for the moment hanging, with intense interest, 
on the speaking lips of the fair witness. And she proceeded 
uninterrupted, till, having described the position in the thicket 
on shore, in which she vvas standing, as Mark Elwood, followed 
by Gaut Gurley, both of whom she recognized, came along, 
she, nerving herself for the task, raised her voice and said : 

“I distinctly saw Mr. Elwood fall, convulsed in death, — 
heard the fatal shot, and instantly traced it to Gaut, belbre he 


340 GAUT GURLEY; OR, 

had taken his smoking rifle from his shoulder, — this same man 
who now ” 

When, as she was uttering the last words, and turning to 
♦-he prisoner, she stopped short, recoiled, and uttered a loud 
shriek of terror. And, the next instant, the deafening report 
of a pistol burst from the corner where the prisoner was sitting, 
filling the room Avith smoke, and bringing every man to his 
feet, in the amazement and alarm that seized all at the sudden 
outbreak. 

There was a dead pause for a moment ; and then was heard 
the sudden rush of men, the sharp, brief struggle, and the 
heavy fall of the grappled prisoner, as he was borne over- 
powered to the floor. 

“ Thank God ! ” exclaimed the hunter, the first to reach the 
bewildered maiden, and ascertain what had befell from this 
■fiendish attempt to take her life simply because she wms instru- 
mental in bringing a wretch to justice, — “thank God, she is 
unhurt ! The bullet has only cut the dress on her side, and 
passed into the wall beyond.” 

“ Order in court ! ” sternly cried the head magistrate. “ It 
is enough ! Mr. Phillips, conduct these ladies to some more 
suitable apartmeut. We wish for no more proof. The pris- 
oner’s guilt is already piled mountain-high. We commit .him 
to your hands, Mr. Sheriff. Within one hour, let him be on 
his way to Lancaster jail, there to await his final trial and 
doom, for one of the foulest murders that ever blasted the 
character of human kind ! ” 

We will not attempt to describe, in detail, the lively and 
bustling scene, which, for the next hour or tw'o, now ensued in 
and around the tavern, that had lately been the unaccustomed 
theatre of so many new and startling developments. The run- 
ning to and fro of the excited and jubilant throng of men, 
women, and children, who, in their anxiety to witness and 
know the result of the trial, had passed the whole night in the 
place, — the partaking of the hastily snatched breakfast, in the 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOO. 


341 


tareniv by some, or on logs or bunches of shingles in the yard, 
by otljcrs, from provisions brought along with them from home, 
— the hurried harnessing of horses and running out of wag- 
ons, preparatory to the departure of those liere with the usual 
vehicles of travel, — the resounding blows and lumbering sounds 
of the score of lusty men who had volunteered to replace and 
repair the bridge from the old materials luckily thrown on 
the bank a short distance down the stream, so as to permit the 
departing teams, going in that direction, to |)ass safely over, — 
and, lastly, the bringing out, the placing on his bed of straw in 
the bottom of a wagon, and the moving off of the caged lion, 
with his cavalcade of guards before and behind, — the fiercely 
exultant hurrahing of the execrating crowd, as he disappeared 
up the road to the west, together with the crowning, extra loud 
and triumphant kuk-kuk-ke~o-ho ! of Comical Codman, who had 
mounted a tall stump for the purpose, and made the preliminary 
declaration that, if he was ever to have another crow, it should 
be now, on seeing the Devil’s unaccountable and first cousin, to 
say the least, in relationship, so handsomely cornered, and, at 
last so securely put in limbo, — these, all these combined to 
form a scene as stirring to the view, as it was replete with 
moral picturesque to the mind. But we must content ourself 
with this meagre outline; another and a different, quickly suc- 
ceeding scene in the shifting panorama, now demands our 
attention. 

Among the crowd who had arranged themselves in rows, tc 
witness the departure of the court officials and the prisoner, 
were the two now inseparable friends, Mrs. Elwood and Fluella ; 
who, on turning from the spectacle, had strolled, arm-in-arm, to 
a green, shaded grass-plot at the farther end of the tavern 
building, and were now, with pensive but interested looks, 
bonding over the garden fence, and inspecting a small parterre 
of budding flowers, which female taste had, even in a place so 
lately redeemed from the forest as this, found means to intro- 
duce. They were lingering here, while others were departing^ 


342 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


for the arrival of expected friends, though evidently net con- 
scious of their very near approach. But even then, as they 
stood listlessly gazing over upon the mute objects of their 
interest, those friends were coming across the bridge, in the 
singularly contrasted forms of an aged man, walking without 
any stalf, and with a firm elastic tread, and quite a youiigerly 
one, walking with a cane, and with careful steps and a re- 
strained gait, betokening some lingering soreness of body or 
limb. On reacdiing the nearest part of the tavern-yard, the 
young man gazed eagerly round among the still numerous 
ci*owd, when, his eye falling on those of whom he seemed to 
be in search, he turned to his companion and said ; 

“ There they are, Chief. I will go forward and take them 
by surprise.” 

The next moment he was standing closely behind the un- 
conscious objects of his attention ; when, with a smiling lip 
but silent tongue, he gently laid a hand on a shoulder of each. 

“ Claud ! ” burst from the lips of the surprised and redden- 
ing maiden, the first to turn to the welcome intruder. 

“ Claud ! Claud ! ” exclaimed the agitated matron, as she 
also turned, in grateful surprise, to greet, for the first time since 
his return, her heart’s idol. “My son! my son!” she con- 
tinued, with gathering emotion, “are you indeed restored alive 
to my arms, and, but for you, my now doubly desolate home ? 
Thank Heaven! 0 thank Heaven! for the happy, happy 
restoration ! ” 

“ That is right, dear mother! ” at length responded the visibly 
touched young man, gently disengaging himself from the long 
maternal embrace; “that is all right. But,” he added, turn- 
ing to the maiden, whose .Sympathetic tears were coursing down 
her fair cheeks, “if you would thank fmy earthly being for 
the preservation of my life, it should be this good and lovely 
girl at your side.” 

^ I know it,” said the mother, after a thoughtful pause, 1 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. S43 

know it; and, Claud, I would that she were indeed my 
dau^rhter.” 

T!i(?re was an embarrassing pause. But the embarrassment 
was not perceived and felt by these two young persons alone. 
Another, unknown to them, had silently witnessed the wliole 
interview from an open, loosely-curtained window of the cham- 
ber al)ove ; and perceived, and felt, and apjireciated, all that 
had transpired, in word and look, no less keenly than the 
young couple, whose beating hearts, only, were measurijig the 
moimmts of their silent perplexity. That other was Gaut 
Gurley’s lovely and luckless but strong-hearted daughter. 
Having instinctively read her father’s guilt, she had come to 
his trial with a sinking heart ; shut herself up alone in this 
small chamber; so arranged the screening curtains that she 
could sit by the open window unseen, and kept her post through 
that long night of her silent woe, hearing all that was said by 
the crowd below, and, through their comments, becoming ap- 
prised of all that was going on in the court-room, in the order 
it transpired. She had known of Fluella’s arrival, — her j)eril- 
ous j)assage over the river, — of the report she then made to the 
hunter of her discoveries, — of her bringing back the wounded 
Claud in safety, — of the dastardly attempt of the prisoner to 
take that heroic girl’s life, — of his sentence, and, finally, of his 
departure for prison, amidst the execrations of a justly indig- 
nant people. She had known all this, and- felt it, to the inmost 
core of her rent heart, with the twofold anguish of a broken- 
hearted lover and a fate-smitten daughter. She had wrestled 
terribly with her own heart, and she had conquered. She 
had determined her destiny ; and now, cn witnessing the last 
part of the tender scene enacting under her window, she sud- 
denly formed the high resolve of crowning her self-immolation 
by a public sacrifice. 

Accordingly she hastily rose from her seat, and, without 
thought or care of toilet, descended rapidly to the yard, and, 
with hurrying step and Ic'oks indicative of settled purpose, 


344 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 


moved directly towards the deeply surprised actors in the little 
scene, of which she had thus been made the involuntary witness. 

“ No ceremony ! ” she said, in tones of unnatural calmness, 
with a forbidding gesture to Claud, who, while Fluella was 
instinctively shrinking to the side of the more unmoved but 
still evidently disturbed Mrs. Elwood, had advanced a step for 
a respectful greeting. “No ceremony — it is needless; and 
no fears, fair girl, and anxious mother — they are without 
cause. I come not to mar, but to make, happiness Claud El- 
wood, my heart once opened and turned to you, as the sunflower 
to its god ; and our paths of love met, and, for a \rhile, ran on 
pleasantly together as one. But, even then, som«}thing whis- 
pered me they would soon again diverge, and lead off to sepa- 
rate destinies. The boded divergence, as I feared, began with 
the fatal family feud of last winter, and has now resulted, as I 
still more feared, in plunging us, respectively, in degradation and 
sorrow, and also in placing our destinies as wide as the poles 
asunder. Claud, Claud Elwood, — can you love this beauti- 
ful girl at your side ? You speak not. I know that you can. 
I relinquish, then, whatever I may have possessed of your 
heart, to her, if wills. And why should she not? Why 
reject one whose life she would peril her own to save ? She 
will not. Be you two, then, one ; and may all the earthly hap- 
piness I once dreamed of, with none of the bitter alloy it has 
been my lot to experience, be henceforth yours. You will 
know me no more. With to-morrow’s sun, I travel to a distant 
cloister, where the world, with its tantalizing loves and dazzling 
ambitions, will be nothing more to me forever. Farewell, 
Claud! farewell, gentle, heroic maiden! farewell, afflicted, 
happy mother ! If the prayers of Avis Gurley have virtue, 
their first incense shall rise for the healing of all the heart- 
wounds one of her family has inflicted.” 

As the fair speaker ceased, and turned away from this doubt- 
less unspeakably painful performance of what she deemed her 
last worldly duty, as well as an acceptable opening act in the 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOO. 


345 


life of penance to wliich she Iiad resolved now to devote her- 
self, an audible murmur of applause ran through the throng, 
who, in spite of their wish not to appear intrusive, had paused 
at a little distance, to listen to and witness the unexpected and 
singular scene. Among the voices which had been thus more 
distinctly raised was that of a stranger, who, having arrived a 
few minutes before, given his horse to the waiter, shook hands 
witli the hunter and the chief, to whom he appeared well known, 
had joined the crowd to see wliat was going on, and who had 
been particularly empliatic in the open expression of his admi- 
ration. The remembered tones of his voice, though attracting: 
no attention from others, instantly reached the quick ears of 
one of the more silent actors of the little scene we have been 
describing. She threw a quick, eager glance around her; 
and, having soon singled out from the now scattering crowd, 
the person of whom her sparkling eye seemed in search, she 
flew forwaj-d towards him, with tlie joyful cry : 

“ My father ! my white father I I am glad, O, so glad you 
have come ! ” and she eagerly grasped his outstretched hand, 
shook it, kissed him, and, being now relieved from the embarrass- 
ment she had keenly felt in the position in which she had just 
been so unexpectedly placed, appeared to be all joy and ani- 
mation. 

“ Come, come, Fluella, don’t shake my arm off, nor bother 
me now with questions,” laughingly said the gentleman, thus 
affect ionately beset, as he pulled the joyous girl along towards 
the spot where the wondering Mrs. El wood and her son were 
standing. “ You must not quite monopolize me ; here are oth- 
ers who may wish to see me.” 

‘•Arthur!” exclaimed Mrs. El wood, with a look of aston- 
ishment, after once or twice parting her lips to speak, and then 
pausing, as if in doubt, as the other was coming up with his 
face too much averted to be fairly seen by her; “ it is — it is — 
Arthur Elwood ! ” 

“ Yes, you are right, sister Alice,” responded the hard-vi»- 


346 


GAUT GURLEY J OR, 


aged little man thus addressed, extending his hand. “ It is the 
same odd stick of an old bachelor that he always was. But 
who is this?” he added, with an inclination of the head to- 
wards Claud. “ Your son, I suppose ? ” 

The formal introduction to each other of the (till then) 
personally unacquainted uncle and nephew ; the full develop- 
ing to the astonished mother and son of the fact, already in- 
ferred from what they had just witnessed, that this, their ec- 
centric kinsman, was no other than the foster-father of Fluella, 
— that he was the owner of lar{>c tracts of the most valu- 
able wild lands around these lalies, the oversigin of which, 
together with the unexpected tutelary care of the Elwood 
family since their removal to the settlement, he had intrusted 
to the prudent and faithful Phillip^j, — and, finally, the melan- 
choly mingling of sorrows for the anlimely death of tJie fated 
brother, husband, and father of these deeply-sympathizing co- 
relatives, now, like chasing lights and shadows fi’orn alternating 
sunshine and cloud on a landscape, followed in rapid succession, 
in unfolding to the mournfully happy circle their mutual posi- 
tions and bonds of common interest. 

“ Evil has its antidotes,” remarked Arthur Elwood, as the 
conversation on these subjects began to fiag and give room for 
other thoughts growing out of the association ; “ evil has its 
antidotes, and sorrow its alleviating joys. And especially shall 
we realize this, if the suggestions of that self-sacriliciiig girl, 
who has just addressed you so feelingly, be now followed. 
What say you, Claud ? ” 

“ They will be,” promptly responded the young man, at once 
comprehending all which the significant que.stion involved; 
“they will be, on my part, uncle Arthur, joyfully, — proudly.” 

“ And you, Fluella?” persisted the saucy querist, turning to 
the blushing girl. 

“ He has not asked me yet,” she quickly replied, with a look 
in which maiden pride, archness, and unuttered happiness, were 


THE TRAPPERS OP UMBAGOG. 347 

charmingly blended. “ If he should, and you should command 
me” 

“ Command ? command! Now, that is a good one, Fluella,” 
returned the laughing foster-father. “Well, well, a woman 
will be a woman still, any way you can fix it. All right, how- 
ever, I presume. But, chief,” he added, turning to the natural 
father, who stood with the hunter a little in the backsrround, 
“ what has been going on here cannot have escaped your keen 
observation ; and you ought to have a voice in this matter. 
“ What do you say ? ” 

“ The chief,” replied the other, with his usual dignity, “ the 
chief has had one staff, one light of his lodge ; he will now 
have tw'o. Wenongonet is content.” 

“It is settled, then,” rejoined the former, whose usually pas- 
sionless countenance was now beaming with pleasure; “all 
right, all round. Now, sister Alice, let us all adjourn to your 
house, where you and Fluella, from some of those splendid 
lake trout which I and Mr. Phillips, wdio, as well as the chief, 
must be of the party, will fiist go out and catch for you, — you 
and Fluella, I say, must cook us up a nice family dinner, over 
which we will discuss matters at large, and have a good time 
generally.” 

In a few minutes more the happy group were on their way 
to the Elwood cottage. 

The principal interest of our story is at an end ; and with it, 
also, the story itself should speedily terminate. A few words 
more, however, seem necessary, to anticipate the inquiries which 
will very naturally arise in the mind of the reader, respecting 
what might be expected soon to follow the eclaircissement of 
the few last pages ; and, accordingly, as far as can be done 
without marring the unity of time, we will proceed, briefly, to 
answer the inquiries thus arising. 

The body of the fated Mark Elwood, perforated through the 
breast by th'' bullet of his cold-blooded murderer, having broken 
from the sinking weights attached to it, and risen to the 


348 


GAaT GURLEY; OR, 


surface of the lake, was found in about a fortnight, brought 
home, and buried on his farm. 

Not far from the same time the faithful hunter received, 
from the hands of a gentleman passing through the settlement, 
a deed of gift of three hundred acres of valuable timber-land, 
adjoining his own little patch of a lot, all duly drawn, signed, 
and executed by Arthur Elwood ; who, after a pleasant sojourn 
of a week at the Elwood cottage, apprising its inmates of what 
he had in store for them, in the line of property, had departed 
for his home, a happier man than he had been, since, for secret 
griefs, he had dissolved partnership with his brother Mark, and 
left the little interior village where the pair first made their 
humble beginning in life. 

Codman, the trapper, continued to trap it still, and, as all the 
settlers within a circuit of many miles around them weie often 
unmistakably made aware, to crow as usual on all extra occa- 
sions. 

Toraah, the college-learned Indian, immediately left, with the 
escort of the prisoner, and, kept away by the force of some asso- 
ciations connected with the settlement as disagreeable to him 
as they were conjecturable to others, was never again seen in 
the settlement ; against which, on leaving, he seemed to have 
kicled off the dust of his feet behind him. 

Carvil, the cultivated amateur hunter, had also immediately 
departed, with the court party, on his way to his pleasant home 
in the Green Mountains ; not wholly to relinquish, however, his 
yearly sojourns in the forests, to regain health impaired for the 
want of a more full supply of his coveted, life-giving oxygen. 

And, lastly, Gaut Gurley, whose infernal scheming and re- 
volting atrocities have been so inseparably interwoven with the 
main incidents of our story, broke jail, on the night preceding 
the day set for his final ti'ial, by digging through the thick stone 
wall of his prison, with implements evidently furnished from 
without, leaving bloody traces of his difficult egress through 
the hardly sufficient hole he. had effected for the purpose ; and, 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMDAGOG. 


349 


thon"h instant scarcl) was everywhere made for him, he was 
not, to the stid disa|)j)ointment of the tliousaiids iiitcnding to be 
in at tlie Iianging. anywliere to l)e found or heard of in the 
count ry. And the mystery of liis retreat, and the still unex- 
plaiiKHl mystery of his stnir. ge and ruinous influence over the 
ijian wlioin he at last so flagitiously murdered, were not cleared 
np until years al'terwurds. 


SEQUEL. 


It was a terrible storm. The wind, with all the awful ac- 
companiments of rain, hall, rattling thunders, and fiercely 
glaring lightnings, had burst down upon the liquid plains of 
the startled deep, in all the fury of a tropical tornado. The 
black heavens were in terrific commotion above ; and the smit- 
ten and resilient wavers, as if to escape the impending wrath of 
the aroused sister elements, were fleeing in galloping mountains 
athwart the surrace of the boiling ocean beneath. 

Could aught human, or aught of human construction, be 
here, now, and survive.^ It would seem an utter impossibility; 
and yet it was so. Amidst all this deafening din of battling 
elements, that were filling the heavens with their uproar and 
lashing the darkened ocean into wild fury and commotion, a 
staunch-built West India merchant-ship was seen, now madly 
plunging into the troughs of the sea, and now quivering like a 
feather on the towering waves, or scudding through the flying 
spray with fearful velocity before the howling blast. 

On her flush deck, and lashed to the helm, with the breaking 
waves dashing around his feet, and the water dripping from 
the close cap and tightly-buttoned pea-jacket in which he was 
garbed, stood her gallant master, in the performance of a duty 
which he, true to his responsibility, would intrust to no other, 
in .such an hour as this, — that of guiding his .storm-tossed ba]‘k 
among the frightful billows that were threatening every in- 
stant, to engulf her. Thus swiftly onward drove the seemingly 
devoted ship, strained, shivering, and groaning beneath the ter- 

( 350 ) 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


351 


rible power of the gale, like an over-ridden steed, as she 
dashed, yet unharmed, through the mist and spray and con- 
stantly-breaking white caps of the wildly-rolling deep ; thus 
onward sped she, for the full space of two hours, when the 
wind gradually lulled, aod with it the deafening uproar sub- 
sided. Presently a young, well-dressed gentleman made his 
appearance on deck, amidships, and, having not(!d a while the 
noNV evident subsidence of the tempest, slowly and carefully, 
fi'om one gras])ed rope to another, made his way to the side of 
the captain, at the wheel. 

“A frightful blow, Mr. Elwood,” said the latter; “for the 
twenty years I have been a seaman, I have never seen the 
like.” 

“ It certainly has exceeded all my conceptions of a sea- 
storm,” said the other. “ Put do you know where we are, and 
where driving at this tremendous speed?” 

“ Yes, I think I do, both. When we were struck by the 
gale, which I saw was going to be a terrible norther, and saw it, 
too, very luckily, at a distance that enabled me to become well 
prepared for it, look at my reckoning, and make all my calcu- 
lations, — wdien we were struck, we were three hundred and 
fifty miles out of Havana, north’ard, and about forty from the 
American coast. I at once put the ship before the wind, and 
set her course southeast, which, being perfectly familiar with 
these seas, I. knew would give her a safe run, and, in about 
sixty miles, carry her by the southern point of the Little l>a- 
hama Bank, where, rounding this great breakwater against 
northers, we should be in a comparatively smooth sea, that 
would admit of either laying to or anchoring. It is now over 
two liours since we started on this fearful race, which has kept 
my heart in my mouth the whole time ; and I am expect- 
ing, every minute, to get sight of that rocky iieadland.” 

“ Put that,” rejoined Elwood (for the gentleman was no 
other than Claud Elwood, as the reader has doubtless already 


352 


GAUT GURLEY; OR; 


inferred), “ that will bring us, according to the late rumor, into 
one of tlie j)rlncipal Iiaunts of tlie pii’utes, will it not?” 

“Yes, partly, perhaps,” repli(*d the captain ; “but I hear 
that Commodore Porter has arrived, with the Americatj scpiad- 
ron, in these seas, to break up tliese [)ests, and ! j)resum(* has 
dorje it, or frightened tliein away, v<o that we sha’ii’t be molested. 
At any rate, I saw no safer course to outlive such a tem- 
pest. You are the owner of shij) and cargo, to be sure ; but 
you put on me the responsibility of her safety.” 

“Certainly,” rejoined the other, “for my guidance would be 
a poor one ; and, instead of any disposition to criticise your 
course. Captain Golding, I feel but too grateful, with the life 
of a beloved wife tit stake, to say nothing of my own, and so 
much property, that your skill has enabled us to outride the 
storm — now nearly over, 1 think — so unexpectedly well. But 
what is that, a little to the lell of the ship’s course, in the dis- 
tance ahetid ? ” 

“ Ah, that is it !” cheerily exclaimed the captain, casting an 
eager look in the indicated direction. “ Why, bow like a race- 
horse the ship must be driving ahead ! 1 looked not ten min- 

utes ago, and nothing was to be seen ; and now there is the 
headland, in full view, but two or three leagues distant! And 
stay, — what is that dark object around and a little beyond the 
point? A ship? Yes, it grows distinct now, — a large, black 
ship. That, sir, is an American frigate. Hurra to you, El- 
wood ! We will now soon be safe, and in safe company.” 

It was about sunset. The merchantman, having passed the 
protecting promontory, and swej)t around the tall ship of war, 
had gained an otfmg, about a half mile beyond, under the lee 
of a thickly-wooded, long, narrow island ; and was now l 3 dng 
gniigly at anchor, riding out the heavy ground-swell occasioned 
by the abated storm ; while all on board, unsuspicious of mo- 
lestation, were making pn'[>iirations to turn in for the night. 

“ A sail to the leeward!” shouted a sailor, just sent aloft to 
make some alteration in the rigging. 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


353 


The word was passed below ; and the captain, mates, and 
Elwood, were instantly on deck, and on the lookout. They at 
once descried a large black schooner, creeping out froni l)ehind 
the farther end of the island against wliich they were an- 
chored, about a mile distant, and tacking and beating her way 
to\v»{irds them. She carried no colors by which her character 
could be determined; but tlie very absence of all such insignia, 
together with the sinister a})pearance of her long, low sides, 
which exhibited the aspect of masked port-holes, and also the 
peculiar stir of her evidently large and strange-looking crew, 
at once marked her as an object of suspicion. 

“ Elwood, your fears were prophetic,” said the captain, low- 
ering his glass from a long, intent observation. “ Tliat craft 
is a pirate, with scarce a shadow of doubt. But don’t the mad 
creature see the frigate, and the frigate her?” 

With this, they all turned towards the ship of war; but she 
was no longer visible. A narrow vein of land fog, put in 
motion by some local current in shore, had been wafted out on 
to the water, and completely enshrouded her from their view. 

“ I see it all,” exclaimed Elwood. “ That pirate has been 
lying, ail the afternoon, concealed behind this island ; and his 
spies, sent into the woods on the island, and to this end of it, 
probably, saw both our ship and the frigate take their posi- 
tions, and this intervening fog coming on, and reported all to 
their master ; who at once conceived the bold design which he 
has now started out to execute, — that of snatching us, as its 
prize, from under the very guns of the frigate! ” 

A brief, earnest consultation was then held ; when, knowing 
the uselessness of trying to signalize the frigate, they first 
thought to weigh anchor and try to escape to her protection ; 
but a little reflection told them the enemy Avould be down upon 
them before this could be effected, and they would be taken, 
unprepared for defence. The only other alternative left them 
was, therefore, quickly adopted ; and, in pursuance, the second 

mate and two seamen were lowered in the life-boat, with 
23 


854 


OAUT GURLEY; OR, 


orders to keep the ship between themselves and the sclioonef 
till they got into the screening fog, and then make their way, 
with all speed, to the frigate, to invoke her aid and protection ; 
while all the rest should arm themselves with the muskets, 
swords, and pistols on board, and, if possible, hold the enemy 
at bay till succor arrived. And scarcely had these hasty prep- 
arations been made, before the piratical schooner, Avhich had 
made a wide tack outward to catch the wind, came swiftly 
sweeping round to their side, like a towering falcon on his 
prey. But. by some miscalculation of her helmsmtin, she went 
twenty yards wide of them — not, however, without betraying 
the full extent of her bloody purposes ; for as, under the im- 
pulse of a speed she found herself unable instantly to check, 
she swept by on the long, rolling billows, a score or two of 
desperate ruthans, headed by their burly and still more fierce- 
looking caj)tain, stood on her deck, armed to the teetli, and 
holding their hooks and hawsers, ready to grapple and board 
their intended prey. But, still forbearing to unmask their bat- 
teries or fire a gun, lest they .should thus bring down the frigate 
upon them, her grim and silent crew sprang to their posts, to 
tack ship and come round again, with the narrowest sweep, to 
repair their former mischance. And, with surprising quick- 
ness, their well-worked craft was again, and this time with no 
uncertain guidance, shooting alongside of the devoted mer- 
chantman. Still the crew of the latter quailed not ; but, well 
knowing there was no longer any hope of escaping a struggle 
in which death or victory were the only alternatives, stood, 
with knitted brows and fire-arms cocked and levelled, silently 
awaiting the onset. It came. With the shock of the partial 
collision as the assailing craft raked along the sides of tladr 
ship, and the sudden jerk as she was brought up by the quickly- 
thrown grapples, the pirate captain, with a fierce shout of defi- 
ance, cleared, at a single bound, the intervening rails, and 
landed, with brandished sword, upon their fore-deck. A dozen 
more, with a wild yell, were in the act of following, when they 


THE TRAPPERS OF UMBAGOG. 


355 


were met by a full volley from the guns of the defenders, 
poured into their very faces- There was a pause, — a lurch, — 
a crack of breaking fixtures ; and the next niomeni the schooner, 
torn away fi’oin lier fastenings by the force of a monstrous up- 
heaving wave, and thrown around at right angles to the un- 
harmed prey so nearly within her clutches, was seen rolling 
and reeling on the top of a billow, filly yards distant. At that 
instant, twenty jets of blinding flame fiercely burst from the 
edge of ite fog-cloud, almost within pistol-shot to the windward, 
and, witii the startling Hash, rent sky and ocean leaped as with 
the concussion of a closely-breaking volley of linked thunder- 
peals. There was another and still more awful pause ; when, 
through the cloud of sulphurous smoke that was rolling over 
them, the astounded defenders heard the gurgling rush, as of 
waters breaking into newly opened chasms, in the direction of 
the enemy ; and they comprehended all. The frigate, unper- 
ceived by the eager pirates, had dropped down, rounrled to, 
and sent a whole broadside directly into the uprolled hull of 
the devoted craft, wliicli had been reduced to a sinking wreck 
by that one tremendously heavy discharge of terrible missiles. 
Within two minutes the lifting smoke disclosed her, reeling and 
lurching for the final plunge. Within one more, she rose up- 
right, like some mortally-smitten giant, quivered an instant, 
and, with all her grim and hideously-screeching crew, went 
down, stern foremost, amid the parting waves of the boiling 
deep. 

These startling scenes had transpired sc rapidly that the 
amazed crew of the merchantman had taken no thought of the 
pirate captain whom they had seen leaping on their deck ; but 
they now turned to look for him, and, whether dead or alive, to 
take charge of him, to crown the fortunate result of this tearful 
encounter. There he stood at bay, with back turned to the 
foremast, facing his virtual captors, with a brandished sword ia 
one hand and a pistol in the other, as if daring them to approach 
or fire on him. But they were spared the necessity of attempt* 


356 


GAUT GURLEY; OR, 


ins either. A boat’s crew of armed men from the frigate were 
already mounting the deck, to claim whoever of the pirates 
they found alive, as their trophies. The formidable desperado 
was pointed out to them ; when, firing a volley over his head, 
to confuse without killing him, they rushed forward in the 
smoke, disarmed, bound, and dragged him alonj, to pass him 
down to their boat. As he was being urged across the deck, 
his eyes met those of Klwood. Tlie recognition ^ras mutual. 
It was Gaut Gurley ! 

It was morning, and the bright sun was looking down upon 
an ocean as calm and peaceful as if its passive bosom had never 
been disturbed by the ensanguined tumults of warring men, or 
the commotions of battling elements. 

A youthful couple were standing by the rail, on the deck of 
the still anchored merchantman, and glancing up admiringly at 
the towering masts of the ship-of-war, which had also anchored 
for the night on the very spot from which she had dealt such 
destruction to the pirates, whose awful fate and the connected 
circumstances had been with them the topic of conversation. 

“ This has been such a fearful ordeal to you, dear Fluella,” 
said the young man, smilingly, “that I shall probably never be 
able again to induce you to -leave home to cross the ocean, either 
for health or pleasure, shall 1?” 

“ h’or pleasure, no, my dear husband,” afVectionately re- 
sponded the other; “no, with my happy New England home, 
never, for pleasure, Claud.” 

“ Rut this was for health^"' rejoined Elwood. “ I have nevei 
told you how much I was concerned about you last summer, oi 
that your physician warned me, as cold weather approached, 
he could not answer for your life through another winter at the 
North. It was this only that led me to urge you to accompany 
me to Cuba, to remain there till I rume back for you in the 
tpring, as I have now done. And, to say nothing of the gains 
which my two trips will add to the estate of which I am heir in 
fxpectation, — or rather, as my good uncle will have it, in poa- 


THE THAPPEES OP UMBAGOG. 


357 


SCPS’CTI with him, — to say notliing of this, I s^hall always be 
tliaiikful for your coming, for it has so evidently restored you, 
I had almost said, to more of liealth and beauty than 1 liave 
sc'rfn you exhil)iring for the whole two and a half happy years 
of o'.jr married life.” 

“ Thank you, Claud, for the beautiful part of it,” said the 
ha])py wife, snapping her handkerchief in his face, with an 
air of mock resentment ; “but I am thinking of home. AVhen 
shall we reach there?” 

“ Well, let us calculate,” replied the husband, beginning to 
catc.li the affectionate animation of the other: “this is the *22d 
of Api'il ; and I think I can promise you the enjoyment of a 
M:iy-day in New England.” 

“ I hold you to that, sir,” playfully rejoined the wife, “ for I 
wish to be preparing for our summer residence at your cottage 
on my native lakes. My illness deprived me of that pleasure 
last summer, you know, husband mine.” 

“ Yes,” said he, with kindling enthusiasm, “we will go, Flu- 
clla. I want to see the good old chief ; 1 want to enjoy the 
visit I have promised me from my friend Carvil; I want to hear 
Phillips discourse on woodcraft, and Chanticleer Codman wake 
the echoes of the lakes by his marvellous crowing. Yes, yes, 
we will go, and make uncle and mother go with us, this time.” 

“Uncle and mother!” cried Fluella, laughingly ; “ how odd 
that is getting to sound. Suppose I call your mother aunt ? 
Have th.ey not now been married long enough to be both enti- 
tled to the more endearing names of father and mother? and 
are they not happy enough and good enough to merit the dear- 
est names ? ” 

“ ^'es,” answered Elwood, “I will correct the habit, if you 
really wish it. Yes. yes; the once-styled crusty old bachelor, 
Arthur Elwood, and my mother, are indeed a happy couple. 
Did you ever know a happier?” 

“Yes, one,” replied the hesitating, blushing wife, drawing 


58 


GAUT GURLEY ; OR, 

down her husband's head, and slyly imprinting a kiss on his 
cheek. 

The conversation between the happy pair was here inter- 
rupted by the appearance of a boat putting olffrom the frigate, 
under the charge of a midsliipman ; who, having come on board 
and inquired out Elwood, now approaclunl and presented him 
a letter, saying, as he departed, it was from the pirate prisoner, 
and would doubtless require no answer. 

The greatly surprised young man tore open the letter, and, 
in company with his wife, read, with mingled emotions of pain 
and indignation, the following singular but characteristic com- 
pound of malicious vaunt and shameless confession : 

“ To Claud Elwood : — My career is ended, at last. Well, 
I liave the satisfaction of knowing that I have been nobody’s fool 
nur nobody’s tool. Early perceiving that nine out of ten were only 
the stupid instruments of the tenth man. the world over, I resolv(\d 
to go into the system, and did, and improved on it so as to make 
muffeen out of twenty tools to /we, — that is all. I have no great 
faidt to find with men generally, though I always despised the 
whole herd ; for I viiew that, if they used me well, it was only 
because they dared not do otherwise. I don’t write this, however, 
to preach upon that, but to let you know another thing, to chew 
upon. 

“ You call me a murderer; and T want to tell you that you 
are the son of a murderer, and therefore stand on a par with 
my family, even at that. Your father, when we used to operai-e 
together in smuggling, being once hard chas{‘d, on an out-of-tho-' 
way road, by one of the custom-house crew, knocked him down 
with a club, and finished with the blow, to save a thousand 
dollars’ worth of silk. Hut I sacredly kept his secret ; yes, 
even to this day, besides making one good fortune for him, and 
being on the point of making him another. And yet he be- 
trayed and turned against me. Y'es, in that affair about the 


THE THAP/FUS <^P UMBAGOO. 


859 


miieing peltries, he betrayed me, out and out, and spoilt everj 
thing. That was his unpardonable sin, with me. I resolved 
he should die for it ; and he did. I didn’t want to kill you, 
but couldn’t suffer you to become a witness. No, I never had 
any thing against you, except for allowing matters to take the 
turn that drove my daughter to anticipate you in breaking off 
the match. But it was just as well, as it turned out. Avis, in 
the position of lady abbess of a convent in one of your eastern 
cities, which it is settled she will have, will stand quite as high, 
I guess, as in the position of lady Elwood. 

“ I have done, now, except to ask one favor, — the only one I 
will ever ask of any man,- — and that is, that you won’t publish 
my name, and couple it with the unlucky miss-go of last night ; 
so that my wife and daughter, who know I am in this region, 
but not my business, may never learn that the captain of the 
Black Rover and I are one. As my brave beys are all gene 
down, and as / shall have no trial to bring it out, it rests with 
you to say whether it is ever to be known or not ; for, as I have 
said, I have no notion of being either tried or hung, any more 
than I had at the North. Gaut.” 

On finishing this singular and remorseless missive, with its 
strange, painful, but as he feared too true disclosure of the 
secret of that fatal influence which had proved the ruin and 
final destruction of his father, Claud Elwood was too much 
troubled and overcome to utter a word of comment ; and. v/ith 
his pained and shuddering wife, he stood mute and thoughtful, 
until aroused by the stir on board, in preparations foi* weighing 
anchor, and the cheering announcement of the captain that a 
favoring breeze was springing up, and that within twenty min- 
.utes they would be, under the lairest of auspices, on their re- 
joicing way to their own beloved New England. 

But the cheering thought was not to be enjoyed without the 
drawback of being compelled to witness one more and a con- 
cluding horror. 


360 


GAUT GURLEY. 


As Elvvood and his beautiful companion were on the point of 
retii'ing from deck, tlieir attention was suddenly arrested by a 
light, crasliing sound, high up tlse tall side of the frigate. They 
looked, and caught sight of broken pieces of board or panelling 
flying out, as if beat or kicked from what appeared to have 
been a closed port-hole. Presently the body of a man, whom 
they at once recognized, was protruded through the amj)le aper- 
ture he had evidently thus effected, till he brought himself to a 
balance on the outer edge. Then came the sharp cry from 
some one of the frigate’s officers ; 

“ Look out, there, for the pirate prisoner!” 

There was at once a lively stir on board, but too late. 
The next moment the heavily-manacled oljject of the alarm 
descended, like a swiftly-falling weight, to the water ; and, with 
a dull plunge, the recoiling waves rolled back, forever closing 
over the traitor^ the robber j the murderer^ and the pirate^ Gaut 
Gurley I 



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IAN LIBRARY, 



NEW SERIES OF 

CHOICE AMERICAB LITERATURE. 


No. I. A TRAGEDY OF THE MOUNTAINS. A. F. Hill. 390 pages. 

“ 2. AMOURS OF AARON BURR. Burdette. 438 pages. 

“ 3. TWO WHITE STAVES. Peacocke. 366 pages. 

“ 4. DEATH-DEATING GOLD. Arthur. 352 pages. 

“ 5. A PEEP AT NEW YORK SOCIETY. By. One of the Victims. 
“ 6. A FREEMAN IN BONDAGE. Northup. 336 pages.’ 

“ 7. my jMOTHER-IN-TAW. By Her Son-in-Taw. 

“ 8. AN AMERICAN DON JUAN. By E. P. B. 

“ 9. IN THE ADIRONDACKS. Hammond. 340 pages. 

“ 10. THE DEMON TRAPPER OF UMBAGOG. Thompson. 360 pages. 


IN PRESS. 

AN AMERICAN HEROINE. Talmon. 

THE MANIAC BRIDE. Arthur. ' 

THE MYSTERY OF WOMAN. Arthur. ^ 

CONFESSIONS OF A MORMON BRIDE. Ward. 

‘ MARRIED, BUT UNLOVED. Arthur. 

PARADISE OF WIT AND HUMOR. By a “Drummer.” - 










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